


To Rescue Tomorrow

by mac_jem



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Crossover, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 20:45:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 26,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6255211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mac_jem/pseuds/mac_jem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry had won, kind-of. But the war had taken all his friends and broken Magic, itself. He decided to travel into the past in order to fix things. Little did he know just how far he'd have to go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Preface

**Author's Note:**

> AU from the Battle of Hogwarts in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, and after SG1 Episode 8-02, New Order, Part 2
> 
> I do not own the Harry Potter Series, nor do I own the Stargate series. If I did, my bank statement would reflect a much larger balance.
> 
> §Text§ denotes Parseltongue  
> [Text] denotes Alteran

**Preface**

 

**2 nd May, 1998 – Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.**

It was over, but it had taken too long.

 

By the time he managed to get himself killed by Riddle and ascended, the war had gone on too long.

 

The Magic in Britain was broken. Ley lines were beginning to fail all over the world because the key intersections were in Britain. Magic was leaking out of the world, and there wasn’t a damn thing anyone could do about it. Within a year, anything that depended on magic to survive would be extinct.

 

In the mundane world, they had a slight breathing space, though they would never know it. Unknown to mundanes, ozone was created in large quantities when magic interacted with water vapor in the atmosphere, and is highly unstable. Without magicals casting spells through the air, without magical creatures flying through the atmosphere, without magical beings of any kind breathing the atmosphere and releasing that tiny bit of magic with every lung full, the Ozone Layer would be exhausted within twenty years. Shortly after that, the Earth would be a lifeless, burnt-out ball, rolling through space, just take a look at Mars.

 

Harry sadly gazed down on the scene of the final battle. All the students fourth year and under, along with any who objected to violence, had been evacuated. The rest had stayed to fight. Hogwarts' grounds were strewn with hundreds of bodies. Pure-Blood, Half-Blood and Muggle-born finally equal in death. Of survivors, there were few. All the Order of the Phoenix members were gone. All the Hogwarts’ staff were dead. All the students that fought had died, save Ron Weasley, who had run at the first engagement. Neville had chopped off Nagini’s head, destroying Tom’s last horcrux, but not before Nagini managed to bite him in the chest, piercing his heart with one of her fangs. All the Death Eaters were dead, save Tom himself, and he would only last a few more minutes. Hermione had really fucked him over with that body inverting spell she\d hit him with just before Bellatrix hit her in the face with that flesh melting curse.

 

Harry floated above the carnage, contemplating what he was going to do now. He had mastered each of the Deathly Hallows, and since he had voluntarily allowed himself to be killed, there was no conquest. He was still their master. His intelligence, understanding, and awareness had expanded astronomically once he had ascended. He knew and understood literally everything, now.

 

The so called ‘Elders’ of the Ascended council would soon send representatives to let Harry know their ‘rules’ for interacting with the physical universe. They hadn’t yet realized that his ‘give a fuck’ was non-existent, and they basically didn’t have the power to make him do a damned thing.

 

Magic was already broken. He realized that if he did anything to fix things in the here and now, the entire ascended body would try to come down on him like a ton of brick, and he was still pissed off enough that he would respond by annihilating the entire bunch of them. Unfortunately, they still had their uses.

 

So, no, there was nothing he could do in the here and now. That didn’t mean he couldn’t back up a few years and fix things. He was going to do what he thought was right, and joke ‘em if they can’t take a fuck.

* * *

**[Earth Date June 6 th, 1998] – Before the Sateda Star Gate**

Harry attained a physical state as he walked through the Astria Porta. Appearances had to be maintained, after all.

 

“Good morning, traveler.” The guard called to him. “May we have your name and business for our records?”

 

“Good morning to you as well, Ronan Dex. I am called Moros of Lantea, and I am here to let you know of an impending raid by the Wraith.”

 

“The Wraith have always culled Sateda to their detriment.” Ronan scoffed.

 

“In the past this was so, however, they are coming on the morrow in three hive ships. They mean to end the existence of Sateda.”

 

“If this is true, we must work quickly to defend ourselves. There is not enough time to evacuate the entire populous.”

 

“I’ll start by warding the Astria Porta against the Wraith.”

 

“What’s an Astria Porta?”

 

“The mechanism behind me that allows for near instantaneous, interplanetary travel.”

 

“Ah. The Ring of the Ancestors.”

 

“Gods! I despise that stupid appellation! People should call it what it is. If they can’t learn the Alteran language, just call it by the common translation; it’s a Star Gate.”

 

“How can you know this?”

 

“Because I built the damned things, and I can assure you, I am nobody’s ancestor!”

 

“But that was…”

 

“Several million years ago, yes. I think I look quite good for my age!”

 

Turning to the star gate, Harry placed his right hand on it and hissed, “§ _Devorabis omnes conatus introitu Wraith._ §[1]”

 

A dim, red haze developed inside the opening of the star gate.

 

“What the hell is that?” Ronan demanded.

 

“That, my friend, is a Wraith killer. Any Wraith who cross that barrier will immediately be reduced to their base components. To that end…” he turned and waved at the fountain about ten meters in front of the gate. The fountain moved a further ten meters away, still merrily spraying water into the air. A stone wall, three meters thick and five meters wide grew to a height of five meters in its former place.

 

“What’s that for?”

 

“Well, any Wraith darts that come through will be unmanned once they get here. We wouldn’t want them crashing willy-nilly into anyone’s parlor, now would we? I’ll leave it to the Satedans to clear out the wreckage.”

 

“Sounds like that just leaves the hive ships.”

 

“Oh, They’re mine. Just one more thing.”

 

“Yes?”

 

“If any of you see someone who calls herself Ganos Lal…”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Tell her I said to fuck off.”

* * *

The Wraith surprised him. They didn’t send three hive ships, they sent a dozen. 12 hive ships, 36 cruisers, thousands of darts. So much fun.

 

In his ascended form he was astronomically more powerful than any drone. He cut through the ships like a white hot knife through butter. Any humans found were transported to Sateda’s moon, where a Satedan colonial government took care of finding their homes and sending them there.

 

All the Wraith ships were destroyed within the hour. There was one Satedan casualty. The dumb fuck was standing in front of the star gate when the first dart came through at full cruising speed.

 

The Satedans recovered 213 crashed darts. Their scientists had the idea of using the Wraith culling beam technology to move cargo easily from one city to another.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] "Destroy all Wraith attempting entry."


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

 

**July 12 th, 2004 - Stargate Command, Cheyanne Mountain, Co.**

“Jack!”

 

Brigadier General Jonathan ‘Jack’ O'Neill, shiny new commander of SGC, turned to see who had called him.

 

Poking his head out of the open door to his office, Dr. Daniel Jackson was beckoning to Jack. “Come in here, Jack. You’ve got to see this!” Jack gamely walked into Daniel’s office, greeting the other occupant, LtCol Samantha Carter with a casual wave.

 

“Alright, Daniel, but can we make it kinda quick? I’d like to get a little fishing in before they bog me down with paperwork.”

 

“We’ll let you decide, after you’ve seen it.” Said Daniel, motioning Jack to a seat at the desk and, almost reverently placing the object on the desk in front of him.

 

“Well, Danny, it looks like a book. A big, shiny, metal book. And judging from all the little, squiggly lines, not a book written in English. But a book. So what’s so Earth-shattering about the book?”

 

“Well, Sir,” Samantha chimed in. “It is a non-English language book. But the composition of the material it’s made from, its probable age, and the fact that the character set it’s engraved in is not known anywhere on this planet or anywhere we’ve ever been make it an exceptional discovery.

 

"The book is made from an alloy of platinum, silver, and naquedah…”

 

“Holy shit!”

 

“Yes, Sir. We could not determine its age from the book itself, but we did Carbon date the Papyrus wrapping it was found in. Circa 8000BC plus or minus 500 years.”

 

“Add to that, although it has been under constant study since the Langford Expedition uncovered it in 1928, I was able to translate it.” Daniel added in.

 

“And just how did you manage that, Daniel?”

 

“The four words that made Sam’s whole week. ‘Computers are your friends.’” Daniel replied, somewhat sourly. “By that, I mean that I used a computer to aid the translation. In spite of its odd appearance, it is a finite character set. And while the academic world spent years bemoaning the lack of a ‘Rosetta Stone,’ they never figured out that the first page was exactly that. And while I don’t know what Parseltongue, the language the character set was originally produced for is, I do know the language the book is written in, Ancient! The first page contains the text in both character sets, side by side.”

 

“So what does it say?”

 

“ Oh, here, I’ll read it to you.

 

_"Magister in vita mortem, ut vita et historia Crochenydd Praeco._

_"Ego, multis cognitum, sed iam nunc ego Arcus per Lantean dicuntur et a populo cursus Merlinus Ambrosius, bardus. Nihilominus tamen potest, ut in principio huius narrationis initium puto. 'Unum est facultas: Quam expugnare accedente populi ter qui natus Natum septimo quod moritur, et non distinctus Tenebrarum Domini pari, sed non novit potestatem Tenebrarum Domini et alter ad dexteram, neque ad moriendum non potest vivere, aliud autem reliquum est in fortitudine: Quam expugnare septimo nascetur moriatur. Haec prima septem annos administravit vitae meae…”_

“English, if you please, Danny!”

 

“Oops, I got a little excited,” Daniel looked chagrined, but continued, albeit a bit slower.

 

“ _The Autobiography of the Master of Death, Being the life and history of Herald Crochenydd._

“ _I am known by many names, but in the here and now, I am called Moros, by the people called Lantean, and Myrddin Emrys by the people of this culture. Be that as it may, I suppose I should start this story at the beginning. ‘The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies, and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not, and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives, the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies.’ These are the words that governed the first seventeen years of my life.”_

 

“So, Master of Death?”

 

“Unknown at this time. We may discover what it means as we get further into the text.”

 

“And the Herald of Crockery?”

 

“Herald Crochenydd _._ It’s Gaelic. Specifically, modern Welsh. I think it’s a proper name. I think this book was written by a modern man named Harold Potter.”

 

“So, this book was written by a modern day Welshman named Harry Potter, who traveled 10,000 years back in time, assumed the identity of Merlin and wrote us a book?”

 

“Yes, but it’s not the history I glimpsed skipping through that is most exciting, Jack. It’s what’s at the end that helps our mission!”

 

“And what could have you more excited than a 10,000 year old book?”

 

“I’ll read it to you.

 

_“I’ve been wandering back and forth between Sumer and Egypt the last few hundred years as Michael Archangele. Recently, just outside of Ur, in Mesopotamia, I annihilated Lucifer, the leader of the Goa’uld and his army of Jaffa. Who would have thought mankind could have been so subjugated by a race of egotistic, brain-dwelling, parasitic snakes. It’s pathetic, especially since the snakes all but sit up and wag their tails like puppies if I so much as speak to them._

_“I just wish I could lose that over-persistant fucker, Abraham, he keeps trying to worship me.”_

Daniel then skipped several pages and continued.

 

_“Christianity has just been born. Too bad, really. I spoke several times with that Yeshu'a fellow, and he seemed quite charming. I don’t know how his followers made such a mess of things after his death. They must have been infiltrated by politicians, or something equally stupid._

_“At any rate, I’m not going to wait around for them to burn me at the stake, again. The Astria Porta at Antarctica is still operational, so I’m going to go to Atlantis for a few years. It will probably deplete the potentia in Antarctica, but I don’t expect to be followed, except by that bitch Ganos Lal. She thinks she’s all sneaky and shit, but she should know not to mess with me. I have several million years experience over her, and she’s never been all that intelligent._

_“I will leave this chronologic record in the desert, under the Astria Porta we buried there so long ago.”_

“Wag their tails?”

 

“Apparently his speech compelled the Goa’uld symbiotes to obey. But that’s not what’s so exciting…”

 

“Still a handy ability to have. I wonder how he did it.”

 

“Jack! He went to Atlantis! And what’s more, he left a forwarding address!”

 

Jack would have bet every cent he had and the stars on his shoulders that the other man was going to explode. Daniel was actually shaking, breathing rapidly and his complexion was going decidedly purple. He was absolutely apoplectic. It took everything Jack had in him to keep from laughing in Daniel’s face.

 

“Aww, Danny. I heard that little tidbit, but wouldn’t you like to see a Goa’uld sit up and wag its tail?”

 

“I am going to kill you, and gate any pieces left over to Proclarush!”

 

“Isn’t that gate buried under an active volcano?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Wouldn’t that be a little messy?”

 

“I. Don’t. Care.”

 

“Alright, Danny. I’m done with the jokes, for the time being. It’s so exciting I don’t even regret missing out on my fishing trip. Much. Now, all we have to do is find a working _potentia_ , whatever that is.”

 

“It’s a ZPM, General.” Samantha helpfully inserted.

 

“Thanks, Carter. I was working toward that probability. So, we need a ZPM with a charge. And no, Danny, you cannot have the one at the Ancient Outpost. Any ideas?”

 


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

 

**September 20 th, 2004 - Stargate Command, Cheyanne Mountain, Co.**

Gen. O’Neill looked up from the mountain of paperwork at the sound of a knock on his door.

 

“Enter.”

 

Jack watched as the Air Force officer entered the room, walked up to the desk, and tossed off a rather sloppy salute. “Major John Sheppard, reporting as ordered, Sir.”

 

Jack silently studied the Major for a minute. Hair a couple inches longer than allowed, Uniform just slightly out of regs, stance decidedly laid back, but something in the eyes said pain and immense sorrow. In another reality, Jack might have adopted this kid as a big brother for Charlie. “At ease, and have a seat, Sheppard. We have a few things to discuss, and by discuss, I mean I talk and you say ‘Yes, Sir!’ Do you get my drift?”

 

“Yes, Sir!”

 

“Very good. First, the good part. By order of the President of the United States, on this 20th day of September, 2004, Major John N.M.I. Sheppard is hereby promoted to the rank of Colonel.” Jack tossed a box across the desk to Sheppard. “Congratulations, and I sincerely hope you don’t need any help putting those on. I can’t abide officers who can’t dress themselves.”

 

“Um,” John was looking at the silver eagles resting in the box that had landed on the desk in front of him. “Didn’t we skip a step there? And I thought I was to be denied any further promotions for, basically, ever?”

 

“Your former Commanding Officer, who is now a former officer by the way, was a third rate kiss-ass. He had his head so far up Congress’ collective ass he hadn’t seen daylight in decades. Your record has been reviewed and the black mark you received for going above and beyond the call of duty has been stricken, you should have received a field promotion instead, at least that’s what I told the President. You also received the Medal of Valor,” here Jack tossed another box on the desk in front of John. “For your single-handed attempt to rescue your fellow soldiers. Hell, if I had been in theater, I’d have fought you for the stick and if the kiss-ass had opened his mouth to me, I’d have shoved my P-90 down his throat. Enough said about that crap.

 

“On to the second item. Colonel Sumner has resigned from the SGC and therefore, from the Atlantis Mission. Primarily because he’s best friends with the kiss-ass, and for all I know, butt-buddies as well. In any event, he has a massive hate-on for you, at least by proxy. Rumor is that he’s also retiring because he can’t handle the direction the military is headed.

 

“That leaves me with two officers on board, and one of them is a wet-behind-the-ears O2. So, once more, congratulations, you are the new military commander for the Atlantis Mission.”

 

“But, Sir!”

 

“Now, what did I say about our discussion?”

 

“Yes, Sir.”

 

“Truth be told, John, there are only three battalion level officers I would trust with this mission. Carter is capable of commanding a force this size, but not this one. The marines would eat her alive. Mitchell asked for SG-1 specifically, and since he single-handedly saved the planet a few months ago, the president will give him just about anything he wants. That leaves you.

 

“You have two companies of Marines, one Marine 2Lt, and eight enlisted support personnel from various services and countries. Including yourself, that gives you ninety military to police yourselves and the sixty civilians accompanying you.

 

“Please remember that the UCMJ does not apply to personnel who are not members of the US military. On that note, there are some changes about to be implemented in said UCMJ.

 

“Mr. Bush may be a hardcore Republican, but his mindset is decidedly militaristic. He understands that a happy army is a successful army, and that a soldier is happiest when his dick is happy. Mr. Bush wants his soldiers to be able to happily put their dicks wherever they are welcome. To that end, 10 U.S.C. § 654 is deleted from the UCMJ and will not be replaced. There will be no discrimination in your command based on gender, race, religion, or sexual orientation. If I hear of any, I’ll come down on you like the Wrath of God, and immediately gate the offender to Proclarush! Am I understood?”

 

“Sir, yes Sir!”

 

“That’s what I wanted to hear.

"Elizabeth Weir is an accomplished diplomat. I have never seen anyone more ruthless at the negotiating table. Per the IOA, she is nominally in charge of the mission, but in reality, she is in charge of the civilian support personnel and only the civilian support personnel. You can’t put a diplomat in charge of a military mission and expect anything but a clusterfuck, but the IOA is chock full of stupid, arrogant fuckers, who couldn’t differentiate their asses from the Grand Canyon.

 

“Dr. M. Rodney McKay is in command of the science division. It is his job to see that the scientists are doing their jobs. As far as I can tell, Rodney was born without a ‘give a fuck’ gene, and tends to run roughshod over anyone he considers ‘an idiot.’ Since he is easily the smartest man on the planet, everyone he meets falls into that category. In fact, the only person I’ve heard of who ever came close to shutting him down is Carter. She left him flabbergasted for all of ten seconds, once. She basked in the glory of that for months!”

 

“Huh, the rumors I heard said they were together?”

 

“Not so much. You must have heard that from the marines. Truth is, while Samantha comes fairly close to Rodney intellectually, he would probably much prefer that she were a Samuel. As far as I know, Rodney has never touched a woman in a sexual manner. He has, however, proudly fucked at least half the male civilians in the mountain, most of the ones at Area 51, all of them at the Antarctic site, and probably half of Russia while he was in Siberia.”

 

“Are you saying he’s a slut? Am I going to have a discipline problem on Atlantis?”

 

“Rodney has three criteria for the men he beds: They have to be smart, they have to be reasonably pretty, and they have to know the score. Every single one of them knows what’s expected of them and what they can expect from him, before they hit the sack. If any one of them tried anything that could disrupt the statis quo, he could expect to regret it for maybe 60 seconds, because that would be his life expectancy.

 

“Hell, you personally meet at least the first two of his criteria, so I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he hits on you. If that’s not your cup of tea, a polite declination is the order of the day. If it is something you’d consider, I don’t want or need a play-by-play, just don’t fuck up the mission.”

 

“But sir, I’m not…”

 

“Pretty? I beg to differ. Rodney would find you absolutely breathtaking. Smart? You may think you have us all fooled, but who do you think sat the panel that approved your dissertation? A Doctorate in Theoretical Mathematics is one of the few Rodney doesn’t already have. Expect to be used for your big brain as often as you are used as a light switch.

 

“So, while Elizabeth is the nominal leader, in reality it is your command. You will, nicely, curb any idiocy she comes up with. If there is a native population in the Pegasus galaxy, she will be invaluable in negotiating any agreements required.

 

“Rodney can and will at the least provocation, quote you chapter and verse on just about any field of science you can think of. That being said, his admin skills are for shit. His attitude toward paperwork can, at best, be called slip-shod, at worst, fucking abominable. You have some support personnel. If at all possible, you should assign one of the admin clerks to Rodney, so I don’t have to lose my shit when you send your reports. There is a British Sergeant, female, age 35, highly intelligent and tough as nails. She would do nicely as, with her MBA, she knows how to take care of all the admin in his department, and she won’t put up with his hissy fits.

 

“The other admin specialist is a Canadian, Chuck something-or-other. He would probably work well as your clerk.”

 

“Can I have Harriman?”

 

“Fuck, no! You’re already getting Daniel. That’s a lot more generous than I wanted to be.”

 

“How’d Dr. Jackson manage to talk you into letting him go?”

 

“He threatened to gate **me** to Proclarush. And I know he’d do it!”

 

“You’ve mentioned it a couple times. What, exactly is Proclarush?”

 

“Hell. The entire planet is going through a severe geographic upheaval they expect to last at least another thousand years. The gate fell into an active volcano several years ago.”

 

“And it still works?”

 

“Oh, yes. We dial it up quite regularly. Not many outside the SGC are aware, but we’ve been quietly cleaning up the various hazardous waste dumps around the world and sending the waste through to Proclarush. There isn’t a single living organism on that planet, so we’re not screwing up another biosphere, we’re cleaning up our own planet and the various governments pay us a fuck-ton of money to do it. The SGC program is funded for at least the next ten years. Win – Win, as far as I’m concerned.”

 


	4. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Text in [] denotes Alteran language.

**Chapter Three**

**October 13 th, 2004 - Mission Day Three – Atlantis**

 

Rodney was in heaven.

 

Atlantis was a bright, beautiful and completely operational jewel set in the middle of the ocean. Lights came on when someone entered a room, terminals all worked, air was fresh, everything was clean, even the potted plants dotted all over the city were alive and thriving. If he actually stopped to think about it, he was somewhat uneasily reminded of the legend of the _Mary Celeste_ , so he didn’t think about it.

 

The city was powered by three, completely charged, ZedPM’s! If he could get her to release just one, they could send it back to Earth, to power the newly christened _Daedalus_ , and give it a better chance against the Gua’uld. She hadn’t been cooperative about releasing one yet, but that was a minor set-back. He’d figure it out.

* * *

Daniel was in heaven.

 

Seated at the terminal next to Rodney’s, he was busily transcribing the Ancient data base into English. The database was so huge and convoluted, Daniel figured he’d need at least four lifetimes to complete his project. Good thing ascension was an option!

* * *

John was in hell.

 

He was standing on the balcony, having a near silent ‘conversation’ with Elizabeth. She had been advocating immediate ‘diplomatic missions’ to set up trade agreements with the native populations of this galaxy. He was adamant in securing the safety of the city before any missions were attempted. Hell, they didn’t even know if there were any native populations in the galaxy!

 

He was about three seconds from tossing her ass out the nearest window, when there was a disturbance on the gateroom floor. There, a young man, maybe twenty to twenty-five, had just walked through the inactive Star Gate! He was dressed in a pale gray tunic and trousers covered by a dazzling white, open-front robe. He had longish, jet black hair, and the greenest eyes John had ever seen. About the time John took all this in, the man began to speak.

 

“[What is this? I go out to dinner at the neighbor’s and when I get back, I find my home is being invaded? I require an explanation, right fucking now!]”

 

Daniel’s head snapped up. That was Ancient that man spoke! He jumped from his chair and started running for the stairs, but Bates was faster. He had his P-90 in the man’s face within three seconds of him beginning his speech.

 

“[Lower your weapon and remove yourself from my personal space, or you will regret it the rest of your very short life.]”

 

Bates growled and flipped off the safety.

 

“§ _Vt si ire baboon, baboon eris!_ §”

 

The rifle fell to the floor, luckily it wasn’t sensitive enough to go off with the jar. Where Bates had been standing, there was now an honest to God baboon!

 

Daniel stopped in front of the man, and gave a formal bow. One eyebrow rose on the man’s face. Daniel then opened his mouth. “[Great heavenly being, we is low life form of Terra coming to pieces in new galaxy…]”

 

The other eyebrow went up.

 

The man held up his right hand, palm outward, and spoke “Can I take it that you speak English? Either yes or no is the acceptable answer.”

 

“Er, yes.”

 

“Excellent, I hope your command of that language is better than your Alteran.”

 

“Why? What did I say?”

 

“That you were worms from Earth, and that you were falling into bits all over the Pegasus Galaxy. Your pronunciation is atrocious and your grammar is for shit. Honestly, I’d have nearly died laughing if that idiot hadn’t just had his rifle poking me in the face.”

 

John strolled up and said, “Yeah, about that, think you could turn him back? I wouldn’t bother asking, but he is one of my soldiers, and I feel kinda responsible.”

 

“If he behaves himself, and learns to mind his manners in someone else’s home, I’ll take it under consideration. Speaking of manners…”

 

“Oh! Let me introduce myself. I am Colonel John Sheppard, Military Commander of the Atlantis Mission, and this gentleman is Dr. Daniel Jackson, archeologist and we thought, linguist.” Daniel frowned at that, but said nothing.

 

“Pleased to meet you, I’m sure. I am called Moros…”

 

“The Moros,” Daniel said excitedly. “The Moros who also went by the name Myrddin Emris?”

 

“Yes, but that was nearly two thousand of your years ago. I haven’t used that name in a very long time.”

 

By this time, Elizabeth and Rodney had joined them. “Hello, Dr. M. Rodney McKay, Chief Science Officer, Atlantis Mission. You’ve stated you are at least two thousand years old. Are you an Ancient?”

 

“I am actually a bit older than that, so I suppose I could be called ancient. However, I fostered the race you are referring to. “The term ‘Ancient’ is a misnomer. They were actually called ‘Alteran’ before they settled on Earth. There, they called themselves ‘Terrans.’ When they migrated here, during the Great Plague that nearly wiped out all life in the Milky Way galaxy, they became ‘Lanteans.’

 

“The human populations of this galaxy have been, annoyingly, calling them the ‘Ancestors,’ which is a crock. The Lanteans never allowed their genome to enter a non-Alteran population until they returned to Terra some ten thousand years ago.”

 

“Then how do you account for the multitude of human and near-human populations across both galaxies?”

 

“Ah. That was me, actually. After Atlantis left Terra, I set up what were essentially ‘Gene Bombs’ on Dakara, in the Milky Way, and a planet called Saludis here in the Pegasus Galaxy. I shielded this planet, as I knew this was Atlantis’ destination, also, the Nox homeworld, and Mars, where I placed the few Furlings who had survived the Plague. When the bombs went off, they eradicated the Plague virus and seeded any unshielded, compatible world with the standard human genome. Nearly four million years of evolution will account for any differences in the races.”

 

“Do you expect us to believe that you’re millions of years old? That’s preposterous!”

 

“I don’t expect you to believe anything, Dr. McKay. However, while you’re in my home, you will be civil, or else.”

 

“Or else what?”

 

“Or else you will regret it the full three nanoseconds it takes me to transform you into a heifer fish then toss you out the window and into the ocean. I do have the power and ability to do that, you know, just ask Sgt. Bates.”

 

“Rodney,” John decided to step in. “The nice gentleman has been kind enough to not kick us out of the city yet. It would be in your best interests to be on your best behavior so as to not antagonize the man. Otherwise, I might be forced to toss you in the brig.”

 

“Don’t piss me off with your idiocy, Sheppard! We don’t even have a brig!”

 

“Tower ten, sublevel three, sections two through seven. They’ve held against the Wraith, they’ll hold a scientist with a bad attitude.” Moros added, helpfully. “Or would you prefer learning to breathe with gills?”

 

“I… You… What the hell’s a heifer fish, anyway?”

 

“About three centimeters long, almost as wide, ugly as the day is long and the basic food source for most of the sea dwelling creatures on this planet. Just so you know, there are currently 405,692 organisms in the ocean and within one kilometer of the city that view heifer fish as a delicacy. ”

 

“But… But… You’re pure evil!”

 

“No, I’m not. Anubis is pure evil. Once Oma is done slapping him about the head and shoulders, I’m going to turn him into… say, what is the colloquial term for a thin, sheath-like prophylactic device that fits over a penis?”

 

“A condom?” John added, helpfully.

 

“Yes! Exactly! I’m going to turn him into a condom and mix him into the supply at an all male house of prostitution. At the end of each night, he will be automatically cleaned, disinfected and rewrapped, so he can enjoy the view the next night. I think I’ll do the same thing to Baal, and give him to Jack O’Neill. He seems to have his eye on both Cameron Mitchell and Teal’c. Bet he’d like a reusable condom, especially if he knew who it used to be.”

 

“Um, can I ask a couple of questions?”

 

“Sure, Dr. Jackson, but you might want to start writing this down. You won’t get a more accurate history and I hate repeating myself.”

 

Daniel just mutely held up a small metal disk.

 

“Voice recorder. Good choice. I knew there had to be someone with some intelligence on your team.”

 

“Okay. First question: are you ascended?”

 

“I am when I want to be.”

 

“You know, that answer makes absolutely no sense. As far as I know, you’re either ascended or you’re not.”

 

“True ascension is just a state of mind. And there are several tiers of ascension. All the Alterans currently in existence are ascended, and most, including all the Ori, are on the first tier. You’ve been there yourself. A few have attained the second tier, but not many. Oma Desala is close, and should achieve second tier soon after she finishes with Anubis.”

 

“And what, if anything, will she achieve at second tier?”

 

“A bit more power and a stronger presence. Not enough to be noticeable on the physical plane, but her standing will rise appreciably within the council.”

 

"How many tiers are there?"

 

"Ten."

 

"And what tier are you on?"

 

"Twelve."

 

"But... How?"

 

"I told you. I fostered the Alteran race. I was around long before they existed. I gave them the understanding of ascension. As the saying goes, 'I taught them everything they know, I didn't teach them everything I know.'"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] If you're going to act like a baboon, then be a baboon!


	5. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is the mention of multiple, underaged rapes in this chapter. No description of any of these events is given, but if this is a trigger for you, please skip this chapter.

**Chapter Four**  
  
Before Daniel could ask his next question, Elizabeth intervened. "Hello, Dr. Elizabeth Weir, Commander of the Atlantis Mission," at this, Moros noticed Col Sheppard rolling his eyes. "Before we go any further, why don't we adjourn to the Conference room?"  
  
"If that is what you wish, Dr Weir, but I must tell you the nearest thing that could be called a conference room is in Tower Six, it will take a few minutes to get there."  
  
"I was actually talking about that conference room right there." she said, pointing to the glassed in room at the top of the stairs.  
  
Both Moros' eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline. "You've commandeered my dining room? What next? Will you be stealing my bedroom, setting up camp in my loo? Is this your usual modus operandi? Do you usually just waltz into other people's homes and take over?  
  
"I once knew a woman like you when I was a very young man. She waltzed into my godfather's house and just took over. She also spent the entire time she was there disparaging him at every opportunity, until the day he died. Two years later, I watched as she got her head cut off, and couldn't find it in me to shed a single tear."  
  
"To be fair," Elizabeth retorted, "we didn't know the city was occupied."  
  
"The open windows, live plants and lack of dust didn't clue you in?"  
  
"Well," interjected McKay, "it had sort of reminded me of the legend of the Mary Celeste, but that was rather creepy, so I tried not to think about it."  
  
"Nevertheless," Elizabeth was close to shouting in anger, "I will be using that room as a conference room, and the office behind it as my office!"  
  
"I rather think not." Moros stated, firmly. The stargate behind him started rapidly dialing, establashing a wormhole faster than any on the expedition had ever seen.  
  
Moros stared directly into Sheppard's eyes, for just a moment, before he spoke again, "Stargate Command, do you copy?"  
  
"I really don't think this is nec..." Elizabeth suddenly discovered she couldn't utter a sound.  
  
"This is Stargate Command. Please identify yourself, and do not attempt to enter the wormhole as our iris is closed."  
  
"Stargate Command, this is Moros of Atlantis. I would have words with your commanding officer regarding the invasion force he has sent into my home. Now!"  
  
"Yes, Sir! I will have him here in ten minutes."  
  
The following 7 1/2 minutes were quite tense as all the members of the expedition found themselves unable to either move or speak.  
  
"Atlantis, this is General Jack O'Neill, Commander of the SGC. May I speak with a Mr Moros?"  
  
"This is Moros, no honorific is required. I would like to speak to you about certain members of the invasion force you've foisted off on me."  
  
"Foisted off?"  
  
"Well, I certainly didn't invite them. Be that as it may, at the end of our conversation, there are a few of the group that will be returned to you. The others may stay for a while, if they so wish, as I might enjoy the company."  
  
"Ooo-k. Who are we talking about?"  
  
"Let's start with the easy ones. Lt Ford. What were you doing him here?"  
  
"Right. So Aiden will be returning to us?"  
  
"Oh, yes."  
  
"I take it there are more?"  
  
"Yup. Up next is Dr. Kavanagh. Seriously, why did you inflict that person on human beings? He has a cesspool between his ears! The absolutely best thing you could do with him would be wiping his mind of all mention of your organization and terminating his employment."  
  
"Unfortunately, we can't do that. We don't have the ability to wipe memories from a person's mind."  
  
"Oh. Well, fortunately, I do have that capability. I'll take care of it for you, gratis."  
  
"Wha...?"  
  
"Moving on, next we have Sgt Bates. He had the audacity to shove his weapon in my face and threaten me. Don't worry when he comes through as a baboon. He'll probably revert in a couple of days."  
  
"Baboon?"  
  
"Quite. The last returnee will be Dr Elizabeth Weir. I find her to be overbearing and arguementative. She's upsetting the zen of my city and I'll not have that!   
  
"Do be so kind as to open your iris thing as I'll be sending them through now. You might also want to cushion the floor in the area of your stargate as they, especially Dr Weir, will be coming through at speed."  
  
"The Iris is open."  
  
"Thank you, here they come."  
  
Elizabeth lifted off the floor and floated over to Moros. "You, madam, are an overbearing cow. I don't take that shit from people thousands of years your senior, I certainly won't take it from you. You are no longer welcome here, do not return.  
  
Elizabeth shot through the gate. A few seconds later, O'Neill could be heard over the intercom, "Jesus Christ! That's gotta hurt. Walter, did you get a velocity on that?"  
  
"Not yet, General," Harriman replied. "I'll replay the security footage later and get you the numbers by the end of the day."  
  
"Good enough."  
  
"Sgt Bates," Moros stated, as the baboon floated to position in front of him. "While you have heard the term 'Know Thy Enemy,' you have not internalized it. You came to my city, and then confronted me with absolutely no intel. Your impetuous attitude will get you killed, someday. Fortunately, for you, this will not be that day. Begone, and do not return!" Bates then shot through the gate, albeit not quite as fast as Weir.  
  
Several seconds later, O'Neill was again heard, "Holy Shit! It is a fuckin' monkey!"  
  
"It's a baboon, General." Moros told him. "I do know my transfigurations. But don't worry, he'll revert back to his oh so charming self in a day or two, probably."  
  
"Right. Whatever you say. Walter, get a couple of the SPs to escort Sgt Bates to secure quarters, we don't want some trigger happy Marine to shoot him on accident. What do baboons eat, anyway?"  
  
"I'll find out, sir." came Harriman's reply.  
  
"And now, for our next victim, I mean contestant." Moros said, as Kavanagh came tumbling through the air, to stop facing him.  
  
As Moros stared intently into Kavanagh's eyes, he intoned, "Well, well, well, Peter. Your parents named you accurately, didn't they, you are an absolute prick! Oh, don't bother trying to deny it, I can see everything that has gone through that slimy little mind of yours, and no, you'll never get to do that to sweet little Katie Brown. No worries now, I'm going to relieve you of all that! Unfortunately, you'll have to acquire new employment, but on the plus side, I'm not going to completely wipe your mind! Additionally, every single time you even think to act on one of those perverted little thoughts, you'll feel like someone is ripping your balls off for the next full day. Now, get off my city!"  
  
Kavanagh slumped over, unconscious, then shot through the gate faster, if possible, than Weir.  
  
"Woah, Nellie!" came back O'Neill's comment. "So, what's up with this one?"  
  
"I've put him to sleep. He will not awaken until he is outside the confines of your SGC and by himself, so your best course of action is to put him up in an inn somewhere off your base. When he awakens, he will have no memory of me, Atlantis, SGC, any SGC personnell, or anything he has ever done at the SGC.   
  
"Additionally, I put a block on his perverted behavior. Seems he likes to prey on children, anyone from the age of 13 up to 18 for boys and 25 for girls, he had his eyes on Dr. Brown. So I blocked his ability to indulge in that particular pastime. Any time he thinks to do so, he will experience excruciating pain in his testicles for a period of 28 hours. I would send you a list of his past victims for prosecution, but the bastard never bothered to learn their names."  
  
"Damn. Ok, we'll take care of the hotel. But I gotta ask, why 28? I mean, I could understand 24, since that's a full day..."  
  
"Sorry, I wasn't thinking about Terra at the moment. 28 hours is the length of a day here on Lantea.  
  
"Anyway, on with the show. Lt Ford, you're up!" Ford smoothly floated over to stand in front of him while he gazed into Ford's eyes for a few moments. Then to the surprise of everyone, Moros smiled and patted Ford gently on the cheek.  
  
"Ah, Aiden, your a good kid, and thanks, that's very sweet of you. I know I'm the catch of the century but the problem is, your tackle just isn't mature enough to land me. You need to go back home and grow up a bit more, it's much too dangerous for you here.  
  
"Go on back and give it a few years, find a gentle boy about your own age and learn what life's all about. Your military recently changed some of their rules, so you shouldn't have any problems on that front."  
  
Their audience was then further shocked when Ford's head drooped and his shoulders slumped. "Are you sure, sir?" Aiden asked. "I'm a quick learner."  
  
"Very sure, Aiden, you are a bit too immature and far too reckless. Pegasus would eat you alive, literally. Your comrades would be sending you home in a body bag within the year.  
  
"I'm not going to ban you from the city forever. Just give it a few years before you try to come back. We'll still be here."  
  
"Ok, sir." Ford then walked up the ramp and through the stargate. Those who could see his face swore he was in tears.  
  
"Ok, Moros," O'Neill asked, moments later. "What's wrong with this one?"  
  
"Nothing is wrong with Lt. Ford, General. He just lacks the experience to be a soldier in the Pegasus galaxy. He wouldn't survive his first hostile encounter. And he thinks he has a crush on me. While I am flattered, he's a very young man and I'm much too old for him."  
  
"May-December romances have been known to work out, ya know?"  
  
"General, I was here before his first ancestor was born. It just wouldn't work. Besides, I haven't banned him from the city permanently, if he wants to come back in a few years, he'll be welcome."  
  
"Alright, then. I'll assign him to a team where he can get some additional training, if he's willing to stay. Atlantis was the only thing he wanted. Would you mind if I told him what you told me?"  
  
"If that's what you think is best, go ahead. But Aiden is a very determined young man, he won't quit on you. You can be assured he'll stick with the SGC until he can get back here."  
  
"Good, I'm glad to hear it. Are there anymore and are the rest of my people safe there?"  
  
"That was the last one. As for everyone else, they are safe from me. Jackson interests me, McKay amuses me, and Sheppard intrigues me. I'm not going to harm any of your people here. The rest of Pegasus, however is a different story. They'll have to stay on their toes when off world."  
  
"Alright, then. I gotta tell ya, Weir has been on her cell phone since she got here, stirring up a shit storm over you with the IOA. I expect all of them here within the next couple of days, frothing at the mouth to give you a piece of their minds."  
  
"If they're the ones that inflicted that harpy on me, they can't afford to give any of their minds away. You can tell them, for me, that this is my city. She pissed me off, so I revoked her visa. As far as I'm concerned, they can all just fuck right off!"  
  
"You got that right. But they're still gonna force me to dial you up so they can let you know their thoughts, personally."  
  
"Go ahead and send them on through, if that's what they want. I do have to warn you, however, that if they piss me off, I'll send them back in the same condition as I sent you Bates. But I'll make it last a couple of months instead of a couple of days."  
  
"I'd almost pay to see that! I'll be sure to give them your warning, I learned the fine art of CYA long ago!"  
  
"CYA?"  
  
"Cover Your Ass. I happen to like my job, at least sometimes."  
  
"Got it."  
  
"Now that I have that out of the way, may I speak with Dr Jackson?"  
  
"Of course, he's right here." Moros nodded at Daniel.  
  
"Hey, Jack. How's it going back under the mountain?"  
  
"So-so. Can't complain, nobody'd listen if I did, anyway. How's everything going out there in that 5 million year old city?"  
  
"7.5 million, actually." Moros interjected.  
  
"I stand corrected. Thank you. So, how's it goin', Danny?"  
  
"Absolutely awsome, Jack. The library here has more than every library on the face of the earth, combined. The Ancient's history..."  
  
"Alteran, Dr Jackson."  
  
"Right. The Alteran history goes back about 50 million years! I don't think I'll ever get through it all!"  
  
"I'm glad you're having such a great time, Danny, and while I generally hate to piss in your Wheaties, I gotta bring you down a little."  
  
"What are you up to, Jack? Don't piss me off. You know Proclarush is still a viable solution to any problem I have with you, right?"  
  
"But you're not even here!"  
  
"Sam will help me."  
  
"You know I'm her boss, right?"  
  
"You just keep telling yourself that, Jack."  
  
"Bastard! But I still gotta do this. Dr Jackson, as you are the senior civilian member of the Atlantis mission, I must place you in the position recently vacated by Dr Weir. It won't add much to your workload unless you get involved in a diplomatic mission off world. Get with Sheppard, he knows the score and will help keep your head above water."  
  
"Ass hole!"  
  
"Yeah, where have I heard that before?  
  
"Anyway, Moros, thank you for allowing our mission to stay in place. If they become a problem, please contact me as soon as possible."  
  
"You're welcome, General. I'm sure we'll be talking again, soon."  
  
"Yeah, probably. SGC out."  
  
"Well, gentlemen," Moros said as the wormhole collapsed. "Shall we adjourn to my dining room and continue our conversation over tea?"  
  
McKay, finding he could finally speak, asked, "Would coffee be possible?"  
  
"Barbarian!" Moros shouted, as he walked up the stairs.  
  
McKay pouted at Daniel. Daniel just shrugged his shoulders and followed after Moros.  
  
Sheppard pushed McKay to follow and walked up the stairs behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My longest yet. Hope you enjoyed.


	6. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

Sheppard was laughing as he prodded the other two through the door and to the table. He then sat beside Moros.

The expressions on McKay’s and Jackson’s faces was so morose that Moros was put in mind of someone who had just lost a close member of the family. Turning to Sheppard, he asked, “So, what’s wrong with them so suddenly?”

“I think,” Sheppard said as he tried to stifle his laughter, “I think they both believe they’ve died and gone to coffee-free hell.”

“You’re joking.”

“Not in the least. They both live on the stuff. They both frequently forget to eat, either could probably survive several days without water, but, deprive either one of their coffee, and you’ll have them in tears within half an hour.”

“Honestly?” Sheppard just nodded, while the other two pouted.

“For the sake of the gods! You two look like I just ripped you away from your mummys’ tits! How can you even stomach that sludge? You’d probably get a better flavor from boiled camel shit!” McKay just stuck his lip out further. Turning back to Sheppard, Moros continued. “You should set them up with appointments with your resident psychiatrist. Substance addiction of any kind is generally frowned upon by any civilization.”

“It wouldn’t help. She’s as bad as they are.”

“Fine!” Moros stated, pointing to the wall furthest from him. “You two babies go enjoy your not-quite-as-good-as-boiled-camel-shit-sludge while the adults get to know each other over a civilized tea!”

Looking toward where Moros had pointed, McKay and Jackson saw a large, copper samovar and several mugs on a table against the far wall. “Coffee!” they chanted together, then happily trotted off to get their fill of heaven in a cup.

“Tea, Col Sheppard?” Moros said, as he picked up an ornate teapot.

“That would be lovely, and please, call me John.”

“Wonderful. This is my own blend. I don’t know if anyone has noticed, but about two thirds of the potted plants around the city are tea plants?”

“Oh, Dr Parrish noticed. I was with him when he saw the first one. I actually thought he was going to have a fatal orgasm right there in front of me!”

“Marvelous! Another civilized being! I shall have to invite him to afternoon tea in the near future.”

“If you do that, he’ll probably be your bestest buddy for the rest of his natural life.”

“Yes, well. Do tell him, if you see him before I do, to feel free to harvest a few leaves here and there, so he can brew a nice cup whenever he likes.”

“Oh, I will. And if you gave him the recipe for this fantastic blend, he’d probably consent to have your children.”

Jackson and McKay had ambled over, having drained their mugs and refilled.

“While that’s theoretically possible, I don’t think we should go down that road at this time.”

“Hang on a minute,” interjected McKay. “Are you saying that a male can carry a fetus to term?”

“It is possible. It would require surgery to implant a functional uterus, and regular hormone injections throughout the gestation and early infancy of the child, but it has been done, It would be far easier to use the artificial wombs in one of the crèches on the city.”

“Artificial wombs?”

“Yes. There are several around the city.”

“So, two men…?”

“Or two women, or a man and a woman. Hell, there were even a few triads that used the wombs to create a child. It became the method of choice for procreation as no one had to carry the fetus, and the artificial womb sequenced out any anomalous DNA, minimizing the possibility of birth defects, and minimizing the health hazards inherent to the carrier.”

“Amazing, I’ll have to have Dr Beckett investigate.”

“You do that.”

“Getting back to our earlier conversation,” interjected Dr Jackson. “

“I’ve been reading the journal you left behind, and I have a few questions.”

“You may ask, I may not answer.”

“That’s fine. First, is your name really Harry Potter?”

“The answer to that question, Dr Jackson…”

“Please, call me Daniel.”

“Very well. The answer to that question, Daniel, would require an oath of secrecy, bound to your lifeforce, for an answer.”

“What do you mean ‘bound to his lifeforce’?” asked McKay.

“Simply that. Were he to freely try to give up the secret he is bound to protect, the oath would take his life in payment. Were he to be under duress, forced to try to give up said secret, the oath would push him into a coma which only I would be able to break. Even were he to be, gods forbid, inhabited by a Goa’uld symbiote, the snake would be unable to access that particular part of his mind. To remain alive, all he has to do, is keep the secret, it’s as simple as that.”

“I’ll take your oath.” Daniel said, firmly.

“Thank you, Daniel. Unfortunately, I would require the same oath of anyone I tell the secret to. So, Dr McKay, John, if either of you are unwilling to take the oath, I must ask you to leave.”

“So, if I fall into a coma because of this oath, you can revive me?” McKay asked, worriedly.

“Yes. The oath also includes tracking and alarm capabilities, so if anything ever causes the oath to activate, I will be able to find and retrieve you in seconds.”

“Fine. I’ll take your oath. And I guess you can call me Rodney.”

“Not your given name?”

“Oh, hell no!”

“Alright, thank you Rodney. John?”

“I’ll take your oath, but you already knew I would anyway, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did, but it’s always best to get consent. Makes litigation so much easier that way.”

“Very well, please repeat after me. ‘I, state your full name,’” here he glared at Rodney. “‘do solemnly swear on my very life, that I will hold the secrets given to me by Moros, also known as Harry James Potter. So mote it be.’”

As each man completed his oath, a white nimbus flashed around him. Once they had all finished, Moros intoned, “So mote it be!” and a bright white light surrounded the entire group for a second.

“First, I must ask you all to suspend disbelief while I tell the story of my beginnings.” Three heads nodded.

Looking directly at Rodney, he stated: “Magic is real.”

As Rodney opened his mouth to dispute that statement, Moros raised his hand in the universal sign for ‘stop’. “Tell me, Rodney, what is the most famous quote by Sir Arthur C. Clarke?”

Rodney sighed as he quoted: “Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.”

“Right. Now, hear me out, before you try to jump up on that high horse of yours, and fall off on your ass.

“On Earth, there is a small subsection of humanity, about 2.5 million, that have the innate ability to manipulate and use quantum energy. I know quantum energy is only theoretical to you, Rodney, but it is real. And that subset of humanity, who, by the way, can all trace their ancestry back to one Alteran or another, has been using this quantum energy, without the aid of machines, for thousands of years. They call it Magic. You can call this ability whatever you want, but since they have it, and you don’t, they win.

“On the 31st of July, 1980, in Godric’s Hollow, Wales, a child was born. That child’s name was Harry James Potter…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know, a cliffhanger. 
> 
> Sorry about that...
> 
> No, not really.


	7. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second update for this date. If you haven't read the previous chapter, please do so before reading this one.

**Chapter Six**

_“On the 31 st of July, 1980, in Godric’s Hollow, Wales, a child was born. That child’s name was Harry James Potter…”_

“Hah! I knew it! You were lying about your age. You said you were millions of years old, and here you’re not even 30!”

Rodney suddenly found his perspective changed. He seemed to be laying on the table on his belly, yet somehow looking up at a suddenly much larger Moros.

“ _§So, tell me, Meredith, do you enjoy being a snake in the grass? You certainly seem to have the ‘serpent’s tooth’ in your speech. You disparage everyone around you, never thinking about the consequences. Do you enjoy your life?§_ ”

Rodney cringed at hearing his hated first name. God, how he hated his parents’ stupidity at naming children. “ _§What have you done to me?§_ ”

“ _§Well, Meredith, I simply gave you an outer aspect that matched your personality.§_ ” Moros conjured a mirror in front of Rodney. “ _§You’re acting like a snake in the grass, so I turned you into one.§_ ”

Rodney recoiled at his reflection. The visage in the mirror showed him a bright green snake with feint, yellow stripes. “ _§Stop using that damned name! Christ! If Sheppard latches on, I’ll never hear the end of it! Fuck! He probably already has!§_ ”

“ _§Relax, Meredith, neither one of them can currently understand a thing we’re saying…§_ ”

“ _§Sure I can. You’re speaking plain English.§_ ”

Both Moros and Rodney whipped their heads toward Sheppard. “ _§You understood our conversation, John?§_ ” Moros asked.

“ _§Of course I did. It was plain enough. And ‘Meredith’? Really? Why would any self-respecting parent name their son that?§_ ”

“ _§Enough with the name, John. The only reason I was using it to get his attention was because I didn’t realize anyone else could understand what we were saying.§_ ”

“ _§Why wouldn’t they?§_ ”

“ _§Because we’re not currently speaking English.§_ ”

“ _§We’re not? Sounds like English to me. Is that why Dr Jackson is looking at all of us so funny?§_ ”

“ _§No, we’re currently speaking Parseltongue, the language of serpents, that’s why Daniel is so put out. He can’t understand us.§_ ”

“ _§Really? That’s cool!§_ ”

“ _§Yes, it is. And we will be discussing that momentarily. Right now, though, I have to deal with Dr McKay, whose first name, I’m afraid, you have to forget.§_ ”

“ _§Why?§_ ”

“ _§Because he hates it so much that when he was fifteen, he hacked into the Canadian National Archive and changed his records to reflect only an initial. He hates it to the point that using it is a cruelty.§_ ”

“ _§Fine. Sheesh, take away all my fun.§_ ”

“ _§It’s not fun, John, it’s bullying. And I won’t abide with a bully on my city.§_ ”

“ _§Yeah, I guess if he hates it that much, using it might be construed as bullying. Go ahead.§_ ” John’s eyes glazed momentarily, then he shook his head. “ _§What were we talking about? I seem to have lost my train of thought.§_ ”

“ _§You were going to let me deal with Dr McKay, then we were going to talk about you.§_ ”

“ _§Oh. Ok, then. Butting out now.§_ ” John sat back in his chair to enjoy his tea.

“ _§Now, Rodney, I have decided your punishment.§_ ”

“ _§This isn’t punishment enough!? You turned me into a fucking snake!§_ ”

“ _§You’ve been in that form for barely ten minutes. Bates will be in his for a couple of days. In any event, I’ll be turning you back as soon as we finish this little conversation.§_ ”

“ _§Whatever! Bates is unimportant. I cannot do my job as a snake!§_ ”

“ _§Bates is a human being, just as you are. He is just as worthy of regard as any human. You could do with a little compassion for your fellow man, so here’s what’s going to happen. For the next week, and I’ll even make it a Terran week so you don’t have a heart attack, whenever you make a disparaging comment to or about someone that you don’t know is the absolute truth, you will revert to this form for a period of one hour.§_ ”

“ _§Crap.§_ ”

“ _§Just so.§_ ”

And Rodney was suddenly sitting in his chair, again.

“What was that?” Daniel was nearly bouncing in his chair. “Was that Parseltongue? I wonder how long it’ll take to learn it?”

“Yes, Daniel, that was Parseltongue. And you may, with diligence, learn to understand it someday. Unfortunately, speaking it is an innate ability, you must be born a Parselmouth to do so.

“I hate to cut your interrogation short, but I need to have a little conversation with John. We’ll be back in a bit. You two stay here and enjoy your sludge.” With that, Moros grabbed John’s arm and the two of them popped out of existence.

“Did you enjoy being a snake, Rodney?”

“No, not at all, and I’d be happy never to experience the sensation again. Unfortunately, I don’t think I’ll get my wish.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Never you mind, Daniel. I wonder what he’s doing to Sheppard?”

“He said they were going to have a conversation.”

“Yeah, he and I just had a ‘conversation’. You saw what happened.”

“Oh!”

* * *

Moros and John popped into existence sitting on the edge of a pier, looking out to the ocean. “Woah! That’s a rush! What did you do and how did we get here?”

“It’s called Apparition, John. Similar to what a stargate does, but on a much smaller scale. Basically, I created a tiny wormhole to take me where I wanted to go, and I dragged you along with me. And unless I’ve missed my guess, you’ll be able to do the same thing, someday.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let me ask a few questions first, to make sure I’m on the right track.”

“Ok, what do you want to know?”

“Did anything unusual happen to or around you on or just prior to your eleventh birthday?”

“Not that I can recall, but just after that is when my father seemed to forget I existed.”

“How so?”

“In 1979, when I was about five, my father’s brother and his wife were killed in a terrorist attack while on a business trip to Great Britain, leaving behind their seven year old son, David. My parents adopted David shortly thereafter, and we grew up as brothers.

“I know parents aren’t supposed to have favorites, but my father always seemed to pay more attention to me than to David. David never said anything, but I could tell he was hurt by my father’s attitude.

“When I was nine, my mom died, and just a couple of weeks later, David went off to some exclusive boarding school, leaving just my father and me at home. Other than dealing with my mom’s death, the next couple of years were pretty good for me.”

“So, David was eleven when your mother died?”

“Yeah, his birthday’s a week before mine.”

“Do you remember the name of the boarding school David went to?”

“Umm, I think it was ‘Salem Academy for Exceptional Youths’, or something like that. Why, is it important?”

“Possibly, please continue.”

“Ok, there’s not much more to tell, anyway. As I said, a couple of weeks after my eleventh birthday, my family just started to forget about me. From that time, until I turned seventeen, the servants took care of me. On my seventeenth birthday, my father took me to the Air Force recruiter and signed my enlistment papers. I haven’t seen or spoken to any of my family since.”

“I see. Hold on just a moment while I get some information from another source.

“Atlantis, I’d like a word with you.”

It was a hologram, it had to be. You can’t see through real women, and they can’t normally stand on the surface of the ocean. John knew this. Nevertheless, there was a woman, about his age, suddenly standing on the ocean about ten feet in front of them.

“You wanted to speak with me, Moros?”

“Indeed, Lani. Have we been tweaking, again?”

The woman smirked, how the hell does a hologram smirk? “Perhaps, just a tiny bit.”

“Lani, what have I told you about messing around?”

She sighed. Sighed? WTF? “That messing around was your job and not to do it. But it was only a tiny little block I broke!”

“Wait a second. A block? A deliberate block?”

“Yes, it was deliberately placed, if poorly. I couldn’t discern a complete signature, but it was a family member. Not the mother or father, but someone fairly close.”

“Like a first cousin?”

“Yes, a first cousin would fit the criteria.”

“Well, that puts a different spin on things. Thank you, Lani. I’ll forgive your indiscretion, this time. That is all.” The hologram/woman disappeared.

“What the fuck is going on, Moros?”

“Well, it seems your cousin/brother, David, was a vicious little shit. Sometime before you turned eleven, David found a way to put a block on your abilities. When you didn’t receive a letter inviting you to the same school David was attending, your father assumed you were what is colloquially called a ‘squib’, and therefore unable to inherit the family legacy. It probably went to David, instead.”

“David did inherit everything when my father died. But what abilities are you talking about?”

“To paraphrase an old and very dear friend; ‘John — yer a wizard, an’ a thumpin’ good ‘un, I’d say, once yeh’ve been trained up a bit.’”


	8. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, what do you know. this is my third update for this date. Please make sure you have read all the previous chapters before you read this one.

**Chapter Seven**

_“‘John_ _— yer a wizard. an’ a thumpin’ good ‘un, I’d say, once yeh’ve been trained up a bit.’”_

“You’ve gotta be shittin’ me!”

“No, not in the least. You are one of those 2.5 million people I was talking about that can use quantum energy, magic if you will. With some training, you’ll be able to use it effortlessly. You are a wizard, you might as well learn how to be one.”

“And where am I supposed to get this training?”

“I can train you while you’re here. If you decide to return to Earth, there are several schools which teach magic, dotted around the globe. The only problem with that is that they all teach focus assisted magic, and I teach focus free magic.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Focus assisted magic has the wizard or witch casting his/her magic through a focus, such as a wand or staff, normally with the addition of a spoken incantation. This can cause problems, as the caster quickly becomes dependent upon the focus, and cannot cast if it is broken, lost or taken from them.

“Focus free magic, on the other hand, depends solely on the caster. There is no focus to be broken or stolen from them. Additionally, the magical governments of Earth have a very difficult time tracking focus free magic, so normally don’t even try.”

“Ok, I can see the advantage of focus free magic, but why would I want to learn either? I’ve done without it this long, what possible use could it be to me?”

“It could save your life.”

“How?”

Moros conjured a paper bullseye target and sent it to hover about where Atlantis’ hologram had appeared. “Have you got any small object in your pockets that you don’t mind losing?”

John patted his pockets a second before pulling out a standard ‘stick’ ink pen. “Will this do?”

“Yes, that will do nicely.” Moros removed the cap from the pen and handed the pen itself back to John. “Imagine you have been captured by an enemy and stripped of all your weapons, but not the rest of your belongings. Now, watch closely.”

Moros held out his right hand, palm up, and placed the pen cap in the center of his palm. Suddenly, the pen cap seemed to disappear and there was the sound of a loud ‘crack’ similar to the sound of a small caliper rifle. Moros floated the target back and handed it to John.

Studying the target, John noted a small, nearly round, hole in the center of the bullseye. “How the hell did you do that?”

“It’s called ‘Banishing’, I simply told the object where to go, and what velocity to travel at. I could have used any small object, a pen, pencil, paperclip, coin, a button ripped off your uniform, or even a pebble picked up from the ground. The point I’m making is…”

“As long as I had access to some small object, I’d never be unarmed. I’ve had a few run-ins where that would have come in handy. But what about the noise?”

“Unfortunately, if you’re using it as a projectile weapon, the object still displaces the air in its path at a supersonic speed. You break the sound barrier, you get a noise.”

“And you didn’t even aim.”

“I didn’t have to. I told the object where I wanted it to go, specifically, fifty feet directly behind the center of the target, relative to me. If I had told it I wanted it to go to the center of the target, it would have stopped with its front end touching the paper. Not very effective as a weapon. And the object will move in a straight line from point of origin to point of destination, so it’s best that there’s nothing, including yourself, in its path.”

“Impressive. Ok, I’m sold. Will you teach me this focus free magic, please.”

“Yes, of course. Do you know how to meditate?”

“Yes, I try to spend at least an hour every day meditating.”

“Good. This evening, before you go to sleep, I want you to clear your mind of all the extraneous crap and concentrate on finding your magical core. You’ll know it when you find it, it’ll be like a ball of energy in the center of your chest. Once you’ve found it, I want you to commune with it. Let it show you where your magic flows in your body. Get to know it. Become attuned to it. The closer you are to your magical core, the quicker you’ll learn how to use it.”

“Yeah, I think I’ve seen it before, but it was always sort of wrapped up and muffled.”

“It’ll be much clearer now. We’ll begin your lessons tomorrow.”

“Great! Can’t wait.”

“You’ll probably grow to resent that sentiment. However, I suppose we’d best get back to the ‘Jackson Inquisition’ before he has an apoplectic fit and does himself an injury.”

“The Jackson Inquisition?”

“Well, it’s a bit late in the time line for the Spanish Inquisition now, isn’t it?”

Sheppard started laughing, again. Moros just grabbed him by the arm and apparated them back to the dining room.

* * *

Sheppard was still laughing. “What’s so damn funny, Sheppard?” Rodney asked, crossly.

“Ha. Jackson Inquisition. Hehe. Apoplectic fit. Haha.” Sheppard rolled under the table, still laughing.

Daniel frowned. “That’s not funny.”

McKay smiled. “I found it mildly amusing. Not something to roll around on the floor over, but mildly amusing. Come on, Daniel, even you have to admit when you get your teeth in a subject, you hold on like a bulldog.”

“And you don’t?”

“Of course I do. I’m the first to admit it. But then, my subjects rarely involve people, so there’s less pain involved.”

“Yeah, right. You tell that to anyone who’s ever worked for or around you.”

“You know I can’t abide stupidity in the workplace. Hell, I barely tolerate it in my general vicinity! As the saying goes, ‘if you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen.’”

“Gentlemen, if you are quite done whining and squabbling, we can continue our meeting. Or adjourn until another day? That would work as well.”

“You! You’re the one that started this inquisition crap, aren’t you?”

“Yes I did. What can I say? It was amusing and accurate.”

“I’ll get you for that.”

“If you’re going to threaten me with Proclarush, don’t bother. I’ve been there.”

“Recently? And I don’t mean in the last thousand years.”

“Oh, yes. About a year ago, actually. I was visiting my neighbors on Athos, nice planet, pleasant people. They may be nomadic, but they are civilized, they understand tea. Anyway, I was enjoying my visit with their leader, Teyla Emmagan when the village was attacked by the Wraith. I quickly hid the villagers then put an illusion on myself that made the Wraith think I was the population. Well, as they were after people, I ran to the gate and forced it to dial Proclarush, then I ran through, taking my illusion with me. Every Wraith on Athos followed me through, much to their detriment. As a result, not a single Athosian was harmed, and all the Wraith that attacked were destroyed. I call that a good day’s work.”

“Umm, not to sound ignorant or anything,” John started, as he climbed into his chair. “But what are the Wraith?”

“A failed Alteran experiment that they didn't bother to clean up before they scarpered off to Terra or Ascension, like the cowardly little fucks they are!”

“Yeah, that told me just about…nothin’ Did you two get anything out of that?”

“Other than his overt disdain of the Alteran people and the fact that these Wraith are dangerous? Nope, not a thing.” Came from Rodney. Daniel just shook his head.

“The Wraith are a genetic cross between the Alterans and a nasty little creature called the Iratus bug, also a failed Alteran experiment. They come in three forms; Drones, or Warriors are the most numerous and by far the strongest, physically. Soldiers are the next class, not as numerous or as physically strong, but much more intelligent than the Drones. Queens are at the apex of Wraith society, and, other than me, the most dangerous life forms in this galaxy. All Wraith are physically stronger than standard humans. All Wraith possess a regenerative capability that will see them healed from most injuries in seconds. All Wraith are functionally immortal, unless severe enough trauma is inflicted upon their persons. And all adult Wraith feed solely on the life force of human beings. In other words, gentlemen, their sole reason for existence is to eat you. Does that answer your question?”


	9. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Eight**

_“In other words, gentlemen, their sole reason for existence is to eat you. Does that answer your question?”_

“Now that I’ve ruined your dinner, what were we discussing?”

“You, actually.”

“Yes? Well, by all accounts, I led a happy childhood for the next fifteen months, until the night of Samhain, 1981. On that night, my family was attacked by a megalomaniac going by the name Lord Voldemort. My father tried to hold him off while my mother took me and tried to escape, but all exit methods were blocked. After killing my father, he came after my mother and I. He tried to coerce her into giving me up to him, but she adamantly refused, so he killed her as well. Then he turned on me. I still don’t know what my mother had done, but whatever it was shielded me so that when he fired his curse, it rebounded and destroyed his body instead.”

“So, this Lord ‘Flight from death’ was one of those magic wielders you were talking about earlier?” Daniel surmised.

“Yes, he was a wizard. A very powerful, very evil and very stupid wizard at that.”

“Why would you say stupid?”

“A couple of reasons:

“First, he performed several necromantic rituals in an effort to make himself immortal. There’s no such thing as immortality, even I will cease to exist one day. In any event, these rituals fractured the connection between his body and his soul so badly that first major blow that hit him shattered that connection, destroying his body and freeing his spirit, but as the reason for the rituals was to anchor his spirit to this plane of existence, it was unable to pass over, leaving him sort of like a ghost, neither alive nor dead.

“Second, he believed a prophesy that he had actually only heard the first half of, made up by a batty old squib as an effort to get herself a job as a Divination Professor, that basically said that a child would be born at the end of July, 1980 that would have ‘the power to vanquish the Dark Lord’. Unfortunately, there were two boys born at the end of July. I was one, born at the stroke of midnight, July 31st, the other was a boy named Neville Longbottom, born two minutes earlier, on July 30th.”

“What’s a squib?” John asked. “You mentioned the word while we were talking out on the pier.”

“Squib is a derogatory term for the child of two magic capable parents, who is not capable of using magic. Nearly all of them are born in Europe and Great Britain, all are from a marriage of two multi-generational magicals, and every single one of them is the result of generations of inbreeding.”

“Inbreeding?”

“Yes. Marriage between second cousins is common. First cousins marry fairly often. Closer blood marriages are rare, but do occur.”

“Closer than first cousins?” McKay asked. “But that would mean…that’s just disgusting”

“Indeed. For example; Voldemort’s maternal grandparents were brother and sister. Their parents were father and daughter.”

“So, getting back to the narrative. I was placed with my mother’s adopted, non-magical sister and her husband. They hated magic in any shape or form. Suffice to say, the next ten years of my life were hell.

“Then, on my eleventh birthday, I received my acceptance letter to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a boarding school in Scotland. I thought my prayers had been answered and I’d finally get out of hell. Little did I know…

My primary nemesis at Hogwarts, though I didn’t know it at the time, was the headmaster. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was a genial old man of about 150 years with silver-white, waist-length hair and beard, a gentle smile, bright blue twinkling eyes, wore the most outlandish color combinations I have ever seen, and was the single most manipulative bastard I have ever known. He was the one who originally heard the old bat’s fake prophecy, and decided to allow Voldemort to learn the first half of it. He was the one who set my family up in the house that was to be their death trap. He was the one who made sure the only person who could give out the secret of where we were located just happened to be one of Voldemort’s ‘secret’ minions. He was the one that made sure I was placed with those horrible people that hated and abused me so…

“I’d best stop this train of thought, I’m of half a mind to go raise the mother fucker up from the dead, just so I can kill him again, maybe two or three times, just to get it out of my system.

“Anyway! Although he never told me, he put me through a horrific, near death-dealing test every year, for the next six years, in an effort to ‘train’ me. I have yet to discern whether he was training me to be a sacrifice to Voldemort, or to destroy him and take his place as the next Dark Lord.

“In my first year, I was forced to save the Philosopher’s Stone from a Voldemort possessed professor…”

“Wait up,” McKay interjected, “all that legendary crap about Nicolas Flamel and his Philosopher’s Stone is real?”

“Of course it is, for the most part, anyway. Nicolas and his wife, Perenelle, created the Philosopher’s Stone in 1356, when he was 30 and she was 23. Their primary objective, when they first started, was to create a method of extending the human lifespan, and they succeeded. But they became disillusioned with people as a whole so, in the end, decided to keep the stone to themselves.”

“So, you’re saying the Stone works, it actually creates an ‘Elixir of Life’?”

“Yes, it does. Nicolas and Perenelle are still living, quite well, on Saint Martin.”

“And what of the other properties of the Stone? Can it actually turn lead into gold? That sounds pretty far-fetched to me.”

“Ever the cynic, Rodney. The Stone will actually convert any substance with a higher atomic weight into the equivalent amount of gold through a chemical, or rather, alchemical process. They use it sparingly, as they have no wish to upset the world economy, or be exposed.”

“Why in heaven’s name would they ever let something so valuable out of their control.

“They didn’t. Dumbledore just thought they did. He had been trying to get the Stone from them since the early 1920’s when he, briefly, apprenticed under Nicolas. In late 1990, he used a vile curse that allows the caster to control another’s mind on Perenelle. She was able to throw off the curse, but pretended to still be under it. When he demanded the Stone, she gave him one. However, what she gave him was a very convincing fake, it would create an elixir, but the composition was closer to root beer than the Elixir of Life. The Flamels then sat back and waited until late June of 1992, when Dumbledore informed them that the ‘Stone’ had been destroyed. They then, quietly, packed up and left Great Britain.

“Dumbledore never heard anything of them again. And he was still trying to figure out what he was doing wrong with the Stone the day he died.”

“So,” Daniel chimed in, “how did you figure it out?”

“Dumbledore was murdered near the end of my sixth year, and the new headmistress, having been a close associate of his for many years, was, understandably, distraught. To help her out, I packed up his personal effects from his office to take to his brother. I found the stone, along with several items he’d stolen from others, including myself, in a hidden compartment in his desk. I pocketed the stone and my things, boxed up everything that actually had belonged to him, and sent it all to his brother. His brother immediately returned everything and told us to burn it, for all he cared. Said he hadn’t had a brother for a 140 years.

“Over that summer, I tracked down the Flamels. Since they hadn’t bothered to change their names, it wasn’t all that difficult using non-magical means to find them. That rather shocked them, and they have since changed both their names and residence.

“We met on the beach and when I tried to return the Stone to them, they laughed at me, which had me rather put-out. When they told me it was a fake and I could keep it if I wanted it, I had a rather epic little fit. After all, I’d nearly been killed trying to save it, only to be told by Dumbledore that I had inadvertently destroyed the damned thing, thereby sentencing two people to death! The fireball from that magical outburst fused the bit of beach under my feet and incinerated anything flammable immediately surrounding me. The result was me, standing on an eight foot diameter circle of glass, stark naked, in front of two people I’d barely met.

“Perenelle, who very kindly did not laugh at my embarrassment, conjured a robe for me to wear. Nicolas, on the other hand, was laughing like a fucking hyena, at least until I vanished his clothing. That shut the old fart up!

“Anyway, once we’d all calmed down, Perenelle levitated that sheet of glass, and invited me into their home. Once there, Nicolas explained all their interactions with Dumbledore while his wife was busily polishing the glass in another room. When he finished his explanation, we had a good laugh over the manipulative old bastard’s machinations, then went to find Perenelle. When we found her, she was just finishing up. She had, very artfully, polished the entire surface of the glass sheet, smoothing it out and flattening most of the surface, but leaving the impressions my bare feet had made in the center. She had then transfigured a matching base and made it into her new dining table.

“Last I heard, they’re still using it and gleefully explaining its creation, going so far as to show the memory of the event, to anyone who asked. I have no idea how many people have seen me naked in that memory! If I’d known I was starring in a porn show, I’d have demanded royalties!”

John, who had been laughing with the other two until that moment, got a thoughtful expression on his face. “Are you telling us a person’s memories can be separated from that person and then be stored and viewed by other people?”

“Yes, John, there are several devices that can accomplish that.”

“Are these memories then admissible in a Court of Law?”

“Are you thinking about David?”

“Yes. I’d like to pay the bastard back.”

“It is possible, but you’d need the right lawyer to pull it off. What you’re contemplating would result in a charge of line theft. The magical communities have a very dim view of that crime. The penalties for line theft are harsher than those for murder.”

“Ok, so I have to get a lawyer first.”

“We’ll work on it.

“Right. It’s getting rather late and this is a good stopping point. Let’s adjourn for the evening, and you three can go get dinner, wherever you’ve set up your dining facility, and I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“But…”

“It’s late, Daniel. We’ll both still be here tomorrow.”

“But…”

“We’re finished for the night, Daniel. Don’t make me turn you into a baboon.”

“But…”

“I know planets much harsher than Proclarush, want me to take you to one of them?”

“Damn!”

“I’ll see you gentlemen tomorrow. Good night.” And Moros popped away.

“Well,” John said, as he stood, “that was interesting. Come on, you two. It’s dinner time, I’ll treat.”

McKay merely nodded, deep in thought, and stood to follow.

Jackson was pouting as he stood and put his recorder away.

“Come on, neither one of you has eaten today. You can continue your playdate with Moros tomorrow, Danny!”

“You sound entirely too much like Jack, right now.”

“Naturally, great minds think alike, ya know!”


	10. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added this chapter and the previous chapter at the same time. If you haven't read that one yet, please do so before continuing with this one.

**Chapter Nine**

**October 14 th, 2004. 0900hrs – Stargate Command, Cheyanne Mountain, Co.**

Brigadier General Jonathan ‘Jack’ O'Neill, downtrodden and put-upon Commander of Stargate Command, wearily moved yet another requisition from his inbox, or as he thought of it ‘the demonic slave driver from paperwork hell box’ to his outbox, better known as ‘Dear God in heaven above, please grant me a fishin’ trip soon box’, when a knock sounded at his door. Looking at his, frankly overflowing, schedule, he quickly ascertained who was at the door. “Enter,” he said, without looking up from his latest headache in the form of a requisition. ‘Why must all requisitions come through the base commander? Don’t I have admin clerks for that. Gotta check with Walter.’

Footsteps sounded, smartly, as they marched to the front of his desk. As he looked up, the young man in front of him saluted, smartly, “Lt Ford reporting as ordered, Sir.”

Jack returned the salute casually, “At ease, Aiden, and have a seat.” Jack studied the man, boy really, for a few seconds. The boy’s eyes were still rimmed in red, he’d probably still been crying up until an hour ago. ‘What was I thinking? There’s no way this child is ready for any kind of combat. We need assets, not bodies.’

“Well, Aiden, I’ve been contemplating what to do with you since you came back through the gate yesterday.”

“Please don’t have me reassigned, Sir! This Command is everything I ever wanted. I know I failed on Atlantis, but I can do better. I’m not gonna let you down again…”

Jack held up his right hand, “Stop right there. You have not let me down, nor have you failed. I was assured by Moros, yesterday, that the only things you lack to be able to reside on his city are maturity and experience. I aim to provide you with both in as timely a manner as possible. To that end, I would like to put you on a special one-year assignment. It is still within the SGC, so you won’t lose out on any seniority when it comes to replacements for the Atlantis mission. With me so far?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Ok, keeping that in mind, I want you to train for a year with Master Bra’tac.”

Aiden’s eyes grew large, “Isn’t he like the fore-most specialist in hand-to-hand and close-quarters combat in the galaxy?”

“So far as we know, yes.”

“And doesn’t he put Teal’c down on a regular basis?”

Jack was getting a little worried, now, “Yeess.”

“And would we train here, or off-planet?”

“Bra’tac wants to stay at home, so it would be off-planet.”

“Well, I’m all over that! When do I start?”

“You’ll ‘gate out the morning of Monday, the 17th. That gives you the weekend to get your shit together.”

“I’ll be ready, Sir, and thank you for this opportunity!” Aiden stood to attention, saluted, smartly, and exited the office.

‘If only all my meetings today could be this easy. Hopefully, Aiden’ll meet some nice kid, fall in love, and get over his crush on Moros. Hmm, he’s gonna be with Bra’tac for a year. Rya’c’s there fairly often and his fiancé just dumped him. Maybe Teal’c and I can get the two of them together? They’re about the same age, they’re both chomping at the bit to prove themselves. It could happen. Who knows?’

**October 14 th, 2004. 1400hrs – Stargate Command, Cheyanne Mountain, Co.**

Brigadier General Jonathan ‘Jack’ O'Neill, pissed-off and ready-to-set-fire-to-his-inbox Commander of Stargate Command, looked up at the knock on his door and barked, “Enter!”

Sgt Walter Harriman peeked around the edge of the door. “Sir? The IOA delegation is in the conference room, waiting for you.”

“Wonderful. Just what I need. Tell them I’ll be there in a few minutes. I just need to wade through the rest of this requisition form.”

“Sir, why aren’t you having your admin clerk doing that?”

“I would if I had one. This shit’s killin’ me.”

“But, you do, Sir.”

“I do what?”

“Have an admin clerk, Sir, his name is Sgt Bellows.”

“I do?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Then why didn’t I know about him?”

“I don’t know, Sir.”

“Right. If you would, Walter, have all this crap transported to Sgt Bellows desk, let him know he has until 0900 tomorrow to complete it. He will then be reporting to me at 0915, to explain, in excruciating detail, just why I didn't know about him.”

“Yes, Sir. Will there be anything else, Sir?”

“No, thanks, Walter, you’re a godsend.”

“I know, Sir.”

Jack chuckled as he stood from his desk and felt the chains of paperwork slavery falling from his body. God bless Walter.

Jack continued to chuckle, right up until he got to the door of the conference room. Opening the door, he stepped in to face the three people already in the room. “Good afternoon, I am Gen. Jonathan O’Neill, Commander, Stargate Command.”

The woman in the center stood and bowed, slightly, “I am Shen Xiaoyi, Chairperson of the International Oversight Advisory.”

Jack bowed his head, “It is a pleasure to meet you, Madam Shen.” Xiaoyi smiled, impressed that the westerner knew the correct form of address.

“Please meet my colleagues, Mr. Richard Woolsey, and Mr. James Merrick.”

“A pleasure, gentlemen. How may we help you today, Madam Shen.”

“We have received multiple messages from Dr Weir, regarding Atlantis. As she was our representative on that mission, naturally, we are concerned. It seems there was some slight altercation with a native of the Pegasus Galaxy that saw her…”

“I think the word you are looking for is ‘deported’.” Jack said, with a smile.

“Deported?”

“As in: ‘the removal from a country of an alien whose presence is unlawful or prejudicial.’ She, apparently, tried to run roughshod over the local governor and take over an occupied city.”

“She didn’t?”

“She did.”

“I see we need to re-evaluate Dr Weir’s position with the IOA. Still, if possible, I would like to speak with this governor of Atlantis. He hasn’t deported the entire expedition, has he?”

“No, he only sent four back. Three for cause. He told me to let the fourth one grow up before we sent him back.”

“I beg your pardon? Grow up?”

“Yes, he told me Lt Ford lacked both maturity and combat experience. He felt that the Pegasus galaxy was far too dangerous for someone like that. He did say Ford was welcome back at a later date.”

“And the other two?”

“One made the mistake of shoving his weapon in the governor’s face, the other, unfortunately, turned out to be a serial child rapist. We’re currently building the case against that one.”

“I’d still like to speak with him, in person, if at all possible.”

“I can get that done, but before anyone confronts him, I need to show you something, it will only take a few minutes.”

“Very well, if that is what you think is best, General.”

“Walter, you got the tape ready?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Roll it.”

Jack pointed to the screen at the back of the conference room. “This is the security footage of the return of our personnel from Atlantis.”

The video had no sound, but it was easy to discern the stargate was active. Suddenly, Dr Weir shot from the center of the stargate, landing about three meters past the foot of the ramp.

“Pay special attention to this next one.”

Sgt Bates flew through next. “Freeze playback.”

“General, why has a baboon exited your stargate?”

“Because, that is actually Sgt Bates, the man who shoved a weapon in the governor’s face, I was told he’d revert back in a day or two. And good catch on the baboon part, I thought it was a monkey when I saw it. Turns out they’re two completely different primate species.”

“Indeed. Are the people of Atlantis wizards?”

“I don’t know anything about any wizards, but this man seems to be extremely powerful and very, very old, even though he doesn’t sound it.”

“What do you mean?”

“He told me he had been on Atlantis since before Lt Ford’s first ancestor was born. And if he is the same Moros I think he is, he buried a journal in the Egyptian desert over eight thousand years ago.”

“Is he one of the Ancients?”

“That’s my best guess. In any event, that’s the part of the footage I wanted you to see. He said if we sent anyone from the IOA to Atlantis, and they irritated him as badly as these did, he’d send them back just like Bates, but it would last a month.” Woolsey paled.

“I see, do you think it would be possible to meet with him here?”

“We’ll never know unless we ask.

“Walter?”

“Yes, Sir?”

“Dial up Atlantis for us. We’ll be right there.”

The stargate activated just as they entered the control room, and Walter handed him the microphone.

“Atlantis, this is Stargate Command. Do you copy?”

“Stargate Command, this is Atlantis, Moros speaking. Go ahead.”

“Moros, old buddy, just the man…err…person I wanted to talk to.”

“You can use ‘man’, Jack. I’ve got all the right equipment and everything.”

“Yeah. Good to know, I guess. Anyway, I’ve got the IOA here…”

“Are you going to send me a bunch of assholes and harpies for me to turn into baboons or worse and send back?”

“Uh, no. Actually their chairperson is here, and asked if you would be willing to come through and meet her here.”

“Oh! Well, that’s a different story! Anything to get away from Daniel for a while. I’ll be right there.”

“Wait!”

Just about that time, the alarm klaxons went off and a youngish man in a white robe walked through the iris.

“Guards! Shut off those damned alarms and show our distinguished visitor to the conference room.” The silence was welcome and almost immediate.

“He seems quite young.”

“Yes, he does, doesn’t he?”

“Are you sure this is the one we should be treating with?”

“We’ll find out once we speak to him.”

They walked into the conference room seconds before the SPs escorted Moros in.

“Hello, Jack, how they hangin’?”

“They hang just fine, Moros how are you?”

“Just fine, now that I’m away from Daniel. I swear, that boy has more questions than a blind librarian. And just a ‘head’s up’ but John’s going to be requesting a replacement for Ford.”

“That sounds like Danny and I’ll find Sheppard someone. Anyway, I’d like you to meet the Chairperson of the IOA, Madam Shen Xiaoyi. Madam Shen this is Moros.”

Moros turned to Shen and bowed from the waist. “Xiàwǔ hǎo, chén xiàoyì, qǐngwèn yǒu shé me kěyǐ bāng nǐ zài zhè měihǎo de rìzi?”[1]

Shen smiled and bowed just as deeply to Moros. “Jiù zài tánhuà, dàn zài yīngyǔ, qǐng, suǒyǐ shèng xià kěyǐ lǐjiě.”[2]

“Of course, I would never deny such a lovely lady a conversation. What may I, and by extension Atlantis, do for you Madam Shen?”

“Please, call me Xiao. Your pronunciation of my native language was quite good. One would think you had lived there for a number of years.”

“Please call me Moros. And I have lived in your fair land from time to time over the years, but I haven’t been there since the late nineteenth century.”

“Very well,” Xiao said, as she sat. “We are given to understand that you were unhappy with the presence of Dr Weir on Atlantis?”

“That is correct, Xiao, I assisted her exit from the city, and she is not welcome to return.”

“Would you be amenable to the presence of an ambassador from our organization on Atlantis?”

“Possibly, in the future. But not until you’ve done a bit of in-house cleaning.”

“I’m not sure what you’re referring to.”

“I’m talking about people like your Mr. Merrick, here, who happens to be hosting a Goa’uld symbiote.”

Everyone in the room other than Moros and Merrick, who seemed to be frozen in place, scattered from the table.

“Are you sure, Moros?” Jack asked.

“Quite sure, Jack. Want to see it wag its tail?”

“As long as it’s safe for everyone in the room? Hell, yeah!”

Moros chuckled. “Alright, Jack. _§Wake up, little snakeling, and show us your true colors.§_ ”

Merrick’s eyes glowed yellow as he snarled in the gravely, echoing voice all Goa’uld seem to use. “Release me at once! I am a god, I will not be restrained!”

“You’re not a god, Sobek, you’re a parasite, and I’ll have no problem restraining for as long as is required. _§It doesn’t take nearly the effort it took to destroy Lucifer. You remember when I did that, don’t you? After all, you fled, like the coward you are, before I could do the same to you.§_ ”

“No! It cannot be. No human can live that long!”

“Foolish little snakeling, whoever said I was human? _§Come to me, Sobek, and leave the man unharmed.§_ ”

Merrick collapsed, unconscious and the symbiote appeared on the table in front of Moros. “ _§Wag your tail for the General, little snakeling.§_ ” The symbiote obediently wagged its tail. Moros then conjured a glass tank full of water, dropped the symbiote in it and conjured a secure cover for the top.

“There you go, Jack. One real, live Goa’uld symbiote. Do with it as you will.”

“Thanks, I think. We’ll figure out something to do with it.”

“Now, you might want to get Merrick some psychiatric help, as he wasn’t a willing host. And that takes care of half your housecleaning, Xiao. The other is a man named Coolidge, who actually works for the NID.

“While we’re on the subject, Jack, one of your people is being pressured by the NID for information. They believe he’ll cave soon.”

“Who?”

“A Dr Bill Lee. Apparently, he’s a bland little man that’s never done anything illegal, immoral, or unethical in his entire life. They are quite sure he’s still a virgin. They had to put a great deal of effort into finding something to hold over him.”

“What are they using?”

“An estranged sister. She’s currently working with ‘Doctors without Borders’ and cannot be reached, but they’ve convinced him that they’re holding her hostage.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Moros,” asked Xiao, “how can you have knowledge of all this?”

“It’s all in that little monster’s slimy mind. Merrick will have knowledge of a great deal of Sobek’s dealings with the NID, but you will have to question him with care. His mind’s natural defenses will try to suppress as much of its interaction with Sobek as possible.

“Now, I’d best be getting back to my city.

“Finish taking out your trash, Xiao, and get some help for Merrick. Once that’s accomplished, I’m sure Atlantis and I will have no problems welcoming Mr. Woolsey for the occasional visit.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Good afternoon, Shen Xiaoyi, how may I help you on this fine day?
> 
> [2] Just a conversation, but in English, please, so the rest can understand.


	11. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘normal text' = thought  
> ‘Italics’ = telepathy

**Chapter 10**

**October 14 th, 2004 - Mission Day Four – Atlantis**

**Moros was in hell.**

**Daniel had been asking question after question since 0715hrs this morning. They had gone through Harry Potter’s second year at Hogwarts, and most of his third. They were currently debating possible reasons for why Sirius Black had never received a trial.**

**‘For the sake of all that’s holy, will this man never shut up!? My headache is developing a headache. _Atlantis?’_**

**_‘Yes, Moros?’_ **

**_‘Is it dinnertime yet? I really need a break from this!’_ **

**_‘It’s now 1115hrs. Dinner is still some hours away.’_ **

**_‘Fuck! How am I supposed to get away from this man?”_ **

**_‘If it’s of any use to you, there is an incoming connection from Terra forming. It should stabilize in ten seconds.’_ **

**_‘Oh, hell yes! I’m all over that! Thanks, Lani.’_ **

**_‘You’re welcome, Moros.’_ **

**Moros stood, suddenly. “Terribly sorry, incoming message, could be important, gotta go!” He rattled off quickly, as he nearly ran out the door. The other three walked out after him, in case the message was for one of them.**

“Atlantis, this is Stargate Command. Do you copy?” came over the speakers.

“Stargate Command, this is Atlantis, Moros speaking. Go ahead.”

“Moros, old buddy, just the man…err…person I wanted to talk to.”

“You can use ‘man’, Jack. I’ve got all the right equipment and everything.” Moros grinned.

“Yeah. Good to know, I guess. Anyway, I’ve got the IOA here…”

“Are you going to send me a bunch of assholes and harpies for me to turn into baboons or worse and send back?”

“Uh, no. Actually their chairperson is here, and asked if you would be willing to come through and meet her here.”

“Oh! Well, that’s a different story! Anything to get away from Daniel for a while. I’ll be right there.”

“Wait!”

**Moros strode quickly up the ramp, and before anyone could say anything, he walked through the event horizon.**

**Sheppard turned to Rodney, “Forgive me, Dr McKay, if I’m misinformed, but didn’t you say stargate connections were one-way only?”**

**“You were not misinformed, Col Sheppard. That is the current knowledge available, but I saw him too.”**

**“And isn’t the iris at SGC normally closed?”**

**“Yes it is. That’s gonna hurt, I bet. Shows what he’s willing to go through to get away from Jackson.”**

**“Well, I never!... I was only asking a few questions!” Daniel indignantly stated.**

**“Daniel, you’ve been at it for four solid hours. You’ve barely let the man get an answer out before you’ve asked the next question. He must have the patience of Job, I’d have ripped your head off three and a half hours ago! Enough with the bulldog impersonation. You’ve made the man bleed, give him a chance to heal.”**

**“That was very insightful, Rodney.” John said. “One would almost believe you had a heart in there, somewhere.”**

**“Whatever! I was just pissed Daniel never gave anyone else a chance to ask any questions!”**

**“Uhh huh, yeah, whatever you say.” John stated, as he looked at his watch. “Come along, Rodney. I’ll let you buy me lunch.” Sheppard strutted off in that sexy way that seemed to go straight to Rodney’s dick. He paused at the top of the stairs to look back over his shoulder at Rodney, “And who knows, if you’re really, really, insightful, or, God forbid, persuasive, maybe you’ll be able to talk me into letting you pound my ass through the mattress.”**

**Rodney’s jaw dropped and he froze in place for a moment as he watched said ass sashay down the stairs. “You’re on your own, Daniel,” he called to Jackson, as he took off after Sheppard. “I’ve got better things to do with my time!”**

**October 14 th, 2004; 1400hrs – Atlantis**

The three senior members of the Atlantis expedition were seated at Moros’ table, waiting for his return. Each man was busily attending to some of the paperwork required by his respective position, all the while caught up in his own thoughts.

* * *

John was amused.

Lunch had been an hour and a half of flirting and teasing. At least John had been flirting and teasing. Rodney, on the other hand, had spent the time sticking his foot in his mouth at every turn. ‘This is the man who’s bedded half the male civilians at SGC? Really? If he hadn’t been so earnest about it, I’d have laughed in his face. He must have been using his professional rep to get them in the sack, ‘cause his technique is for shit! Still, he looks like he might be up to a round or two, maybe I’ll try him out some day. It’s possible. Just gotta wait and see.’ John smirked and went back to the duty roster he was trying to figure out after the loss of Ford and Bates.

* * *

Rodney was disgruntled.

Lunch had been an hour and a half of frustration and faux pas on his part, and teasing and innuendo on Sheppard’s. He had tried to put his best foot forward, and, seemingly, stepped into a steaming pile of dog shit. And the bastard had the nerve to be smirking at him! ‘Sheppard is a cock tease of the highest order. I’d like to just ignore him until I find some way to get him shipped back to Earth, but, Damn! That is one fine ass!’ Rodney grimaced, and went back to the set-up schedule for his lab.

* * *

Daniel was irritated.

‘The nerve of that man! Running off like a spanked puppy after only a few questions! Ok, maybe it was a few hundred questions, but, still, can’t he understand that he’s a walking history? His story has to be recorded for the sake of posterity! Maybe, when he gets back, I can glue his behind to a chair so I can finish his grilling, er… make that his interview.’ Daniel was just about to go back to his notes when he heard the stargate activate.

As one, the three men rose and walked out to the balcony overlooking the gate room, just as Moros stepped through the gate to immediately face the eight p-90’s aimed at him.

“Again with the weapons? Didn’t we learn anything the last time someone shoved a gun in my face?”

Sgt Markham’s face paled at that, but his aim didn’t waiver.

“To be fair,” John said, as he walked down the stairs, “they’re doing exactly what I ordered them to do. At ease, gentlemen.” The weapons were lowered with a collective sigh of relief, as John continued. “After all, we have no way of knowing what’s on the other side of the gate, and after your oh so vivid description, last evening, I wasn’t taking any chances with the safety of our people.”

“Admirable, but unnecessary. Atlantis?”

“Yes, Moros?” Atlantis’ voice came over the speakers.

“Is the gate filter still active?”

“Yes, Moros.”

“And what is it meant to filter out?”

“Whatever you have requested, Moros.”

“Are there any peoples on the do-not-allow-entrance list?”

“You have placed three races on the list to deny entry to Atlantis; Wraith, Asuran, and Genii. Additionally, you have denied entry to 47 other persons of various races, including the three you banished yesterday.”

“And what will happen if someone on that list tries to come through?”

“Most will simply find themselves unable to enter the event horizon at their end. The Wraith, the Asurans, Dr Weir or Dr Kavanagh would find themselves meeting the gate shield.”

“And what happens to one of those persons meeting the shield?”

“They are reduced to their constituent elements upon impact.”

“Anything else on that list?”

“Iratus Bugs, any genetic material thereof, any harmful virus or bacterium, any hostile nanite, any open, poisonous substance, any lethal radiation or energy, and any weapons of mass destruction.”

“Thank you, Lani.”

“You’re welcome, Moros.”

Turning to John, he said, “I like my home, John. I’m going to protect it in any way possible. This way, nothing that can harm the city, or anyone in it is allowed to enter.”

“That’s good, so I guess I can reassign most of these men elsewhere.

“So, you told us about the Wraith yesterday, and thanks ever-so-much for that vivid description, but who are the other two?”

“The Asurans are yet another failed experiment by the Alterans. A race of nanite composed, artificial life forms, similar to, but much smarter than, what you know as human form replicators."

Daniel and Rodney both gulped at that.

“The Genii are a militaristic, conquest oriented society. And by militaristic society, I mean every man, woman, and child is inducted into the army at birth, they leave the army upon their deaths. Their goal is to own the entire galaxy.

“Anyway, a few years ago, They decided to invade Atlantis. They sent sixty armed soldiers, I sent them back sixty bodybags. A few days later, they sent me a live nuclear bomb. Well, I wasn’t going to put up with that crap! I mean, that bomb could have caused slight damage to this room! So I transfigured it into a thirty foot live basilisk and sent it back. Haven’t heard a word from them since.”

Daniel couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. “Isn’t the basilisk like the most venomous creature on Earth?”

“Yes.”

“And doesn’t it have eyes that kill you if you look at them?

“Yes.”

“And isn’t it nearly impossible to kill?

“Yes.”

“And you set this monster loose on a society?

“Yes.”

“What were you thinking?!”

“What was I thinking? What was I thinking? Well, let’s see. I was thinking those fucktards had just sent me a fucking honest-to-the-gods, real, live, fucking nuke! I was thinking they fucking well deserved anything I gave them in return. I was thinking the basilisk I sent them was less than half the size of the one I killed when I was twelve! With a fucking sword! That’s what I was thinking!

“Right now, Dr Jackson, I’m thinking that you might not be a good fit for Atlantis. You’ve irritated me to near Weir levels and I’m about two fucking seconds from sending you back to Jack as a permanent baboon! You are not my mother or my wife. You have absofuckinglutely no right to badger, nag, or reprimand me!

“Now, get out of my face until I fucking think better of you! Begone!” Daniel disappeared.

Moros took a deep breath, and let it back out, before he turned to the other two men. “Any comments from the Peanut Gallery?”

John was quick with a “Nope, not a one.”

Rodney nodded his head then asked, “Where did you send him?”

“To his room. The door is locked against him, but he’ll get a tray when the evening meal is served. I’ll maybe let him out in the morning.”

“Good enough for me. I’ll see you all tomorrow.” And Rodney walked away.

Turning back to John, Moros stated, “Meet me this evening at 1900hrs at the end of pier five and we’ll get started on your lessons.”

“Right, see you then.” John walked away.

Moros just shook his head in frustration, as he popped away. ‘They’re pretty good kids, for the most part, but every now and then, you’ve got to spank one to keep them all in line.’


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Chapter 11**

That evening, John walked as near as he could get to the end of pier five, and stopped. Before him was what looked for all the world like a Buddhist temple, sitting right on the end of the pier. As there was no door in view, and the temple was built to the edges of the pier, he couldn’t see any way of entering without getting wet.

Just as his watch chimed 1700hrs, Moros faded into view in front of the temple. He was dressed in the traditional saffron yellow and blood red robes of a Buddhist monk. His feet were bare and his hair pulled into a topknot on the crown of his head.

Clasping his hands together and bowing from the waist, Moros called to Sheppard, “Welcome, John. Please remove your shoes and weapons before entering.”

“Ok, I can understand the weapons, but my boots?”

“Yes. If I were to be a hard-ass, I’d require you to remove all your clothing, as it is tainted almost beyond all endurance.”

“Tainted? Have I been exposed to some contagion since I got here? Do I need to get to the infirmary?”

“No, nothing like that. I know you weren’t aware, and I’m fairly certain your immediate superiors didn’t know, but every single article of clothing you are wearing was constructed using slave labor. The oldest person to work on constructing your uniform was eleven years old, and under the threat of a whip. The anger, fear and blood that radiates from the very weave of the fabric is nauseating.”

Staring down in horror at his uniform, John’s hands started acting without his conscious thought. Without a word, he ripped every article of clothing from his body, tossing it as far away as he possibly could. Once the last piece had been removed, he returned to his upright position and asked, “How could the US government condone child labor?”

“In all actuality, they probably don’t have a clue. The perpetrators have learned to be quiet and work through several intermediaries. That, and the fact that the upper echelon of your armed forces don’t really want to know how they’re getting the bargains they are, so they don’t look too closely.”

Moros swept his eyes up and down Sheppard’s nude form before he smirked and spoke again. “I had thought the predilection of the populace of the United States was toward circumcision at birth. I congratulate your parents on bucking that particularly heinous trend.”

Sheppard flushed and moved his hands to cover his manhood. “Yes, well, I was born nine weeks early. I was in an incubator for nearly six months. By the time I got out, my mother had decided that any surgeries were unnecessary and the doctors could keep their knives to themselves until I decided I needed what she thought was a completely ludicrous, cosmetic procedure.

“That being said, the scientists are saying we’re approaching late autumn here, and the breeze blowing over my balls is close to freezing. If I don’t get somewhere warm soon, I think they just might freeze up and fall off.”

“Then, by all means,” Moros replied, as he gestured toward the temple, “Enter freely, John Sheppard, into the sanctuary of my soul, and be welcome.”

“And how am I supposed to do that? I mean, I guess I could jump in the ocean and swim around the pier to see if there was a back door. It’d be even easier now that I don’t have to worry about waterlogged boots or uniform, but the water looks damn cold!”

“Yeah, that’s something I really couldn’t recommend. There are fish in these waters that would view you as a very tasty, but very small snack.”

“Just how big are we talking, here? If they’re enough of a fight, General O’Neill would love to come out here just for the chance to catch one.”

“They are similar to a super-sized _Carcharodon megalodon_ , about 40 meters. The last one killed was about ten thousand years ago. The Alterans were leaving and wanted to disconnect with the geothermal unit on the ocean floor. They sent one of the gate ships down to perform the operation, and on the way back, one of the fish swallowed it. Whole. Of course, the ship was recovered, almost immediately, but Ionah, the pilot, was so shocked to be swallowed whole by a fish that I’m afraid he had a heart attack as he was being rescued, and ascended before they could get him out of the ship.”

“Yeah, I don’t think even O’Neill wants to fight something larger than a blue whale. So, how am I getting inside, again?”

“Belief has a major role in the performance of any magic. Your magic knows the door is there, all you have to do is believe enough to allow your eyes to see what your magic knows to exist.” With that, Moros turned and walked through the wall.

It took nearly twenty minutes for John to relax his mind enough to believe what he couldn’t see. Shivering with the cold, he then followed Moros through the ornate doorway that had just appeared in the center of the wall to begin his magical education.

 

**October 15 th, 2004; 0630hrs – Atlantis**

John was rather dismayed.

After six grueling hours, Moros had sent him merrily on his way. Luckily, the transporter (and he didn’t think he’d ever get over the Star Trekiness of that!) let him out just down the hall from his quarters. Unluckily, Sgt Dusty Mehra was standing guard outside the transporter. She quirked an eyebrow, then snapped off a salute. John, still in the altogether, waved off the salute as he stalked past, and into his quarters. He could swear he heard her laughing as the door closed behind him. Damn! This story would be all over the city before breakfast. He’d never hear the end of it!

Now, standing naked in the middle of his room while examining the nearly nonexistent contents of the two duffle bags he’d brought with him showed that Moros had been most ‘helpful’ in removing all the ‘tainted’ items from John’s wardrobe.

He hadn’t brought any civilian clothing, as he figured he’d be ‘on duty’ 24/7, or was that 28/9 now? At any rate, the only clothing he had left were his track shoes and a pair of light weight, white, nylon running shorts he’d bought for exercising, but hadn’t yet used.

He briefly considered becoming a hermit and barricading himself in his room for the rest of his life, but then dismissed that thought as rather pre-pubescent emo-ish. Shrugging, he slipped on the shorts and shoes, and left for his morning run.

He didn’t stop to think that when light weight, white nylon gets damp, it becomes quite transparent.

* * *

**October 15 th, 2004; 0700hrs – Atlantis**

Daniel Jackson woke up irritated.

He’d been locked in his room since yesterday afternoon, with no one to talk to. The evening meal, while satisfying his hunger, didn’t taste nearly as good as it would have if he’d eaten it in the company of others.

Checking the door confirmed his suspicions that it was still locked against him. Just where did Moros get off, thinking he could put him in ‘Time Out’ like an unruly child? Still disgruntled, Daniel went to shower.

Upon exiting the bathroom to get dressed, Daniel noticed an ornately carved, wood box on his bedside table. On top of the box was a folded parchment. Unfolding the parchment, Daniel read the letter written therein:

_Dr Jackson,_

_In the accompanying box, you will find several memory crystals and the reader that will allow you to view them. They cover the main events of my life from the age of 1 through 17. I would ask that you review all of these crystals before interrogating me further on extremely painful events that happened, from my perspective, several million years ago._

_Document these crystals in any way you like, however, you may not use the name ‘Harry Potter,’ as he is currently living his life with his wife and husband, down the street from his parents’ house. These events never happened to him, as I rewrote history to prevent it…_

‘There’s another Harry Potter? His parents are still alive? He has a wife and a husband? Does that mean Moros is bisexual as well? Hmm.’

_…If, after reviewing the contents of these crystals, or you have questions about something else, I will endeavor to answer them as long as I can have your promise to limit these inquisitions to no more than 30 minutes per day._

_Moros_

_p.s._

_The door will unlock at 0800hrs._

Opening the box, Daniel found a series of 16 dark blue crystals, each in its own labeled and velvet-lined compartment. He also found the reader, a metallic pyramid with a slot cut into the apex wide enough to accept one of the crystals. Along with the reader, he found what looked like a conventional VCR remote control.

Pulling the table to the center of the room, he set the reader on the center of the table and put the first crystal in place in the reader. Stepping back a few feet, he pressed ‘play’. The image was vibrant, extremely realistic, and nearly filled the entire room. Hurriedly pressing ‘stop’, he began to set up his own video camera and his voice recorder. When he had finished, he sat on his bed, pressed ‘rewind’ and then ‘play’.

_“Harry James Potter! You get back here so I can get you dressed before the guests arrive!”_

_A very naked, giggling boy flew around the corner on a broom, being chased by a huge, black, and curiously, gray-eyed dog. They were being followed by an auburn haired woman with eyes the same color as Moros’. The toddler (for the child couldn’t be more than a year or so old, and who, in their right mind, would allow a toddler to ride a flying broom?) seemed to be flying directly toward a magnificent, white hart that was standing in the middle of the lawn. Just as he reached it, the boy jumped off the broom, yelling “Daddy!”_

_The stag instantly transformed into a black-haired man that, except for the blue eyes, looked astonishingly like Moros, and caught the giggling child, pulling the boy to his chest. “Whoa, there, Prongslet! You’re all wet and nekkid! Did you get away from your Mum in the bath?” Still giggling, the boy nodded excitedly, then started hissing, exactly as Moros had the day before. “Hold up there, Kiddo, you know Daddy can’t understand when you talk like that. Calm down a little bit and tell me in English.”_

_“Hokey, Daddy. Me gots away when Mummy had to gets a towel and popped to me’s room. Me gots on da bwoom and flewsed down da ‘tares ‘n out da door. Unk’a Pa’foo’ chasded me ‘til me finsded Daddy!”_

_“Well, you ‘finsded’ me just fine, but you’re still all wet and nekkid. Let’s get you dry and dressed before everybody shows up and the little girls catch you all wet and nekkid, and see something they shouldn’t.”_

_“What dey gonna see Daddy?”_

_“That’s a conversation for when you’re twelve, not one, okay?”_

_“Hokey, Daddy.”_

_“Now, what’s the biggest rule?”_

_“Don’ talk §_ _Shaasheseth_ _§ if’n dey don’ wive here, ‘cause dey don’ un‘erstand ‘n it will make dem sad.”_

_“Right in one, little man, and here comes Mummy with a towel and your clothes and a big frowny face!” Harry just giggled harder._

_“Sirius Black!” the red-headed woman yelled. “Whatever possessed you to buy a broom for a one-year-old?”_

_The dog transformed into a black-haired man with gray eyes. “Now, Lily, it’s only a toy broom. It doesn’t go fast enough or fly high enough for him to get hurt.”_

_“It’s going to hurt you when I shove it up your arse! Couch! For a month!”_

_“But I don’t even live here!”_

_“Care to make it two?”_

_Lily wrapped her son in the big fluffy towel and asked, “What am I going to do with you, Harry James Potter?”_

_Harry opened his big green eyes as wide as he could and replied in his most solemn voice, “Wuv me f’ever?”_

_Lily pulled him in close and whispered into his ear, “Forever and a day, my son. With all my heart, in this life and the next…”_

**October 15 th, 2004; 0730hrs – Atlantis**

Rodney was flabbergasted.

He had just exited his room, intent on breakfast, when he heard the sound of laughter and turned towards it. He immediately dropped both his toolbox and his jaw at the sight that greeted him. Jogging down the hall towards him was Colonel John Sheppard, USAF, wearing, as far as Rodney could tell, nearly nothing. The Colonel was being followed by about two dozen marines, all trying to keep up with him while laughing their collective asses off.

As Sheppard drew nearer, Rodney could discern that he was actually wearing jogging shorts, but his sweat had turned the apparently thin fabric nearly transparent, giving all and sundry a near perfect view of just what the Sheppard genome had gifted to the Colonel. As the Colonel drew near, Rodney called out to gain his attention, “Sheppard, are you aware…”

As Sheppard jogged past, he called back “I’m aware. Long story. See you at breakfast. 0800?”

“Fine. See you there.”

‘Those shorts are so transparent, I could see his foreskin! God, he’s hung! And that ass is even better than I’d imagined! Breakfast is gonna be great!’

**October 15 th, 2004; 0738hrs – Atlantis**

**J** ohn returned to his quarters to shower and try to figure out what to wear the rest of the day. ‘Maybe I can ask Stackhouse if he has some sweats I can borrow, we’re about the same size.’

As he entered his room, he noticed a bundle on his bed. Walking over, he picked up the note on top of the bundle, and read:

_John,_

_It just occurred to me that you probably have nothing appropriate to wear for the day, therefore, please accept this outfit with my best wishes. The fabric was woven, cut and sewn on Athos. They do put their children to work, but each is adequately compensated for his or her work while he/she is learning a craft that can help them earn a livelihood, so I cannot see it as slave labor. It’s more like an apprenticeship._

_In any event, I have charmed this outfit like I do my own. There are cleaning charms, so it never need be washed. Additionally, I have layered shielding charms over every piece I sent you that will nullify any projectile weapon’s ammunition. It will also absorb and reflect at least eighty percent of any energy weapon discharged at it._

_You might think about this for the rest of your expedition, as the charms are fairly easy to learn (I can teach them to you in a day or two), and permanent._

_Moros_

John unfurled the bundle and found an outfit very similar to what Moros was wearing when they’d first met. The tunic and loose trousers were in a dark, charcoal gray, and the open robe and soft, moccasin-like boots were in a deep black.

After his shower, John donned the outfit Moros had provided. He noticed that his rank insignia was stitched on the right side of the Nehru-like collar of the tunic, and the sleeveless overrobe fitted like a glove. It was, by far, the most comfortable uniform he’d ever worn. There was absolutely no chaffing, even though he was currently free-balling it. If it actually did what Moros claimed, he had to get the entire expedition into it.

Time to think about that later. Right now, he had to get to Rodney, breakfast, and a conversation.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The inspiration for John's 'jogging outfit' came from real life. In the mid '80s, I was stationed at Ft. Meade, MD. and lived in Columbia MD. On my way home from work one day, I came upon a traffic accident involving at least ten cars. The person (I will not reveal gender) in the lead car had suddenly stomped on their brakes upon seeing 'the cause of the accident'. The other cars didn't have enough notice to stop before crashing into the car in front. 'The cause of the accident' serenely jogged past the accident. seemingly taking no notice of what he'd caused. 'The cause of the accident' was a man, probably between 25 and 30, jogging on the sidewalk in the opposite direction of traffic. This man, who was sweating profusely, despite the drizzle that was coming down was wearing the outfit I described for John. As the jogger passed by my car, I could tell, at a glance that he had not been circumcised as the material of the shorts he was wearing left absolutely nothing to the imagination.


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that the rating of this work has been changed from 'Mature' to 'Explicit'. 
> 
> This was done specifically for this chapter, which DOES CONTAIN explicit, male/male sex. 
> 
> If this is something that bothers you, please refrain from reading.
> 
> Thank you,
> 
> jem

The last couple of months had flown by.

On October 16th, a package had appeared in the offices of the US Attorney General, detailing the full membership and financial records of an organization called the Trust, that was involved in subversive and treasonous actions against the US government, as well as running a child slave labor ring. President Bush had jumped all over it, hoping public disclosure would aid his bid for re-election, and privately ecstatic that it got rid of that pain-in-the-ass, Kinsey. There had already been several arrests.

On October 18th, John’s whole week was made as Major Evan Lorne stepped through the gate as his new Executive Officer.

* * *

Moros was happy.

Daniel stayed primarily in the office Moros had provided for him, working diligently on the translation of the Alteran database and leaving the running of the expedition to Sheppard. Every evening, after dinner, he allotted four hours to watching and recording the memories Moros had given him. He’d promised Moros he wouldn’t ask any more questions about his life until he’d viewed the entire set.

* * *

John ran the same route every morning. It took him past McKay’s quarters at exactly 0730hrs. He made sure to wear those shorts at least four days a week and he always had an entourage on those mornings. It didn’t really matter anymore, everybody had already seen it all, anyway. And it flustered the hell out of Rodney. Every. Single. Time.

He wondered, idly, if Rodney’s head would explode if, one day, he decided to forego the shorts?

Most often, his days were spent keeping his soldiers trim, fit, and out of trouble, or acting like a light switch for the geeks. Meals were normally spent with Rodney, John flirting shamelessly, and Rodney endeavoring to prevent his foot entering his mouth.

There had, unfortunately, been one attempted assault on the city. Three Marines ambushed John on his way to his quarters, after his run, accusing him of being a ‘fucking faggot’. Fortunately, for John, he was former SpecOps. Unfortunately, for the three Marines, they either had no idea of their commander’s military history, or had no idea just what was entailed in SpecOps training and had no clue that John had excelled in the course. Needless to say, three badly broken Marines were shoved through the gate to SGC, along with all the evidence needed for their courts-martial, security video helpfully provided by Atlantis.

O’Neill did rag on him mercilessly about the shorts, though.

He also spent four to six hours every evening, taking Magical instruction from Moros, who seemed quite pleased with his rapid progress.

* * *

Rodney kept to his schedule.

He watched Sheppard run past his door every morning at 0730hrs, sharp.

He worked in his lab and/or berated his minions…make that subordinates, all day.

He spent most of his meals trying not to make an ass of himself in front of Sheppard.

And he fantasized about John, stepping out of those damned shorts, every night as he jacked-off.

‘Damned shorts!’

* * *

**December 25 th, 2004; 0730hrs – Atlantis**

Rodney was waiting outside his door for the morning show, i.e., the ‘Sheppard Run-Bye’, when, surprisingly, Sheppard strolled down the hall, wearing a set of sweats that he had, apparently, stolen from Sgt Stackhouse.

“Merry Christmas, Rodney!”

“Christmas?”

“Yeah, Christmas. You know, that Christian holiday that falls on December 25th every year? Well, that’s today. So, Merry Christmas, Rodney!”

“Happy Holidays, John.”

“Happy Holidays?”

“I’m an atheist.”

“Oh, okay. Good enough, then. Come on, I’ll buy you breakfast, then we’ll go get your present.” John took Rodney’s arm and start toward the Dining Hall.

“But I’ve got to get to the Lab.”

“No can do. Lab’s closed today. Breakfast, then present.”

“How can the Lab be closed?”

“I closed it and sent all your geeks on holiday for the day.”

“How dare you close my Lab!”

“Don’t be a Grinch, Rodney. You can’t wear green for shit. Breakfast. Now.”

After a tense breakfast, John led Rodney into a transporter, and punched a location Rodney hadn’t been to yet toward the end of pier seven. As the door opened, John led Rodney toward the double doors at the end of the hall. “I don’t really sleep well at night.” John said, conversationally. “I’ve got a pretty bad case of insomnia, have for years. So I tend to take little cat-naps whenever I can throughout the day and wander around while everyone else is off in dreamland. I found this place our first night and immediately thought of you.”

The doors opened at their approach to reveal an enormous arboretum. Rodney looked at John and said, wryly, a bunch of trees made you think of me?”

“Not the whole bunch, just one in particular. It’s just a bit further in.” John led Rodney to a huge, old weeping willow, at least 60 feet tall and nearly three times that in diameter, with branches hanging to the ground, completely obscuring the area around its trunk. John pushed aside some of the branches, creating a passageway under the canopy of the tree. “Right through here.” He said.

As Rodney walked under the canopy, he noticed a pallet of blankets set up next to the trunk. John turned Rodney toward him, pulled him in close, and kissed him like his life depended on it. As he was being kissed, thoroughly and quite pleasantly, he felt a tingle over his entire body. When they parted, neither was wearing a stitch.

John led Rodney to the pallet and gently laid him down, “The entire crew was checked by Beckett before we left to make sure we weren’t bringing any communicable diseases to the Pegasus Galaxy. Today I’m making good on that offer of pounding my ass through the mattress. But if I’m not satisfied by the time you’re finished, we’re going to reverse positions, and I’ll show you how to fuck a man properly!”

Rodney was quick on the uptake. “Can we reverse positions even if you’re satisfied?”

“That’s do-able. Just get a move-on. I’ve been forcibly celibate for the last three and a half years. I’m as horny as a fuckin’ longhorn steer!”

As he knelt between John’s knees, he searched around. “I don’t see any lubricant, John. I don’t know about you, but I don’t think I could handle a dry fuck.”

“Right.” John reached out and touched the head of Rodney’s very engorged penis, and hissed, **“ _§Lubricum§_.”**

Rodney immediately had the slick feeling of lubricant flowing down the shaft of his dick. “Can You do that to yourself?”

“There’s no need for that, Rodney,” John reached between his legs and pulled out a formerly invisible butt plug. “I was prepared for this. Now, fuck me already!”

Rodney took one, last, deep breath and slid his cock as far up John’s rectum as he could get. John threw back his head and screamed, “Oh, yeah! That’s what I’ve been waitin’ for!” John lifted his head and stared directly into Rodney’s eyes. “Don’t quit on me now, Rodney. I ain’t quite there, yet. Keep it comin’! Hard!”

Rodney just nodded, and started pumping in and out, just as deep and hard as he could, trying to hit John’s prostate just as often as possible, not slowing down until, finally, he couldn’t hold back any longer and came with a primal scream, just as loud as Sheppard’s.

Rodney collapsed on John’s chest, wheezing like he’d just run the Kentucky derby, without a horse. John held him close, stroking the back of his head and shoulders and kissing his temple.

When Rodney finally calmed, he rolled off John and just looked at him. John just looked back and told him, “That was a pretty good effort for an amateur, but we’re gonna have to work on bringing you up to par.”

Rodney initially frowned at being called an amateur, but then grinned a second later when he parsed out that they were going to be doing this again, probably often and in the near future. “So, does that mean we can reverse positions?”

“Oh, yeah, in just a second, considering I haven’t got off yet!”

“You haven’t. Fuck that! But, could you go a bit easier on me? I’m not really into violent sex, especially when I’m the bottom.”

“Yeah, Rodney, I’ll be gentle. I’m not really into sex that violent very often, but, I’m horny as hell, and it’s taken two solid months to get you past the drooling stage.”

“As long as it isn’t that rough, I’m ready.”

“I hope you’re ready for me to rock your world.

John slid between Rodney’s legs and lifted them until he could get his head in position. Placing a finger against Rodney’s anus he muttered, **“ _§Purgo§_.”** He then placed his mouth over it and stuck his transfigured tongue into it. Then he began to speak. “ _§I’m going to give you the ride of your life. You won’t be able to think of anyone else but me from this point on. I’m going to fuck you every single day, and you’re going to fuck me at least as often. You’ll love me without reservation, because I have no reservations about loving you. You will be mine, and I will be yours.§_ ” John continued for several minutes, Rodney babbling incoherently the entire time about 'Love You' and 'Oh my God!' and 'What the Fuck?'. When Rodney came again, John stopped and allowed his tongue to revert to normal. “So, you ready for me?”

“Hmm…What? Ready? Oh, yeah, I’m ready, but you wore me out, so you gotta do all the work.”

“Yeah, I think I can handle that.” Touching the head of his own prick, he once again hissed, **“** ** _§Lubricum§_** **.”** Then gently slid into Rodney’s thoroughly loosened asshole. He then began a gentle rocking motion, pulling his dick about halfway out, before sliding back in and tagging Rodney’s prostate on every thrust. Rodney’s cock inflated to near full mast almost immediately.

“Christ, Sheppard,” Rodney moaned, “you’re gonna make me come again. My balls are going to be so sore tomorrow, I won’t be able to walk!”

“That’s alright, Rodney. Tomorrow’s Boxing Day. You’re supposed to take it easy, anyway.”

Ten minutes later, John wrapped his hand around Rodney’s dick and pulled once, twice, thrice and Rodney simultaneously came all over John’s hand and clamped his asshole down on John’s cock. John thrust once more and came himself.

John let his dick slip out and rolled to his back on the pallet. Rodney tucked in close and put his head on John’s chest. After a minute or two of panting, he said, “I think you broke my dick, John.”

“Nah, I just gave it a little exercise.”

“You just made me come three times in the span of a half-hour. I’m thirty-four, not fourteen, Sheppard! Hell, I think that would have killed my dick at fourteen! And how the hell did you manage to get your tongue far enough up my ass to vibrate it against my prostate? The human tongue isn’t that long.”

“Well, you know I’m a magic-user?”

“Much as I hate that term, yes.”

“And that I’m a Parselmouth?”

“Okay.”

“According to Moros, Parselmouths are natural animagi.”

“What’s that?”

“An animagus is a magic-user that can transform his or her body into that of an animal, and back again. I met my form in meditation about a month ago, and have been practicing partial transfigurations so I can get my body used to the change. I used a partial transfiguration on my tongue to take care of you. Moros says I’m ready for the full transfiguration whenever I’m comfortable with it.”

“That’s cool. So, any animal?”

“Each animagus has a specific animal they can turn into, unless, again according to Moros, you have a rating on the Merlin scale over 1800, then you can have multiple forms. Moros does, but my rating isn’t quite that high, yet.”

“So, where are you at?”

“1750, but Moros said I may be able to increase that by 75 to 100 points over the next 10 years if I continue to practice high level magic.”

“What animal are you?”

“I’d love to show you. Come with me.”

John stood and pulled Rodney, groaning, to his feet, then started leading him through the arboretum in the direction opposite the entry.

“Don’t we need our clothes?”

“Nah. It’s warm enough, and I locked the doors, so no one else can get in.” As they neared the doors at the rear of the arboretum, John muttered **“** ** _§calfacto§._** **”** Then walked them through the doors. There was about a hundred feet to the end of the pier. “Okay, Rodney, I need you to stay here. I’m going out about fifty feet, ‘cause I’m not quite sure how big my form is.”

"Okay. Why did we come out here naked, and why aren’t we cold?”

I cast a warming charm on us before we came outside, should last about an hour. Moros told me that the first time I transformed, I should do it naked, because I will be interacting on a very intimate level with my animal form, and when I transform back, I most likely will forget to bring my clothes with me.”

“Okay, Colonel, show me what you got!”

John walked about 50 feet out, and sat in the lotus position. ‘That’s gotta be cold on his ass!’ After a few moments, the air surrounding John seemed to grow thicker, denser, and seemed to be boiling around him. Then it seemed to quickly condense around him, nearly hiding him from sight. Suddenly, all that condensed air expanded with a bright flash.

When Rodney blinked the flash from his eyes, he found himself looking, not at Colonel John Sheppard, but at something he only half remembered reading about in a high school Mythology class when he was nine.

Covered in dark green and black scales, standing nearly twenty feet tall, with a tail almost as long, heavily muscled legs with vicious looking talons, instead of arms, wings, each at least twenty feet in length and a long head with a snout full of razor sharp teeth and two dagger-like fangs. The eyes had slitted pupils, like most reptiles but they held an intelligence he would never attribute to an animal. In short, it was the single most terrifying thing he had ever been this close to.

“Christ, Sheppard, you’re a dragon?”

The animal shook its massive head back and forth, and the transformation process reversed.

When Sheppard was back in his human form, he grinned at Rodney, before correcting him, “Not a dragon, a wyvern. Specifically, a fire drake.”

“There’s a difference?”

“You mean aside from species? A dragon has four legs, two wings, breathes fire, and is cold-blooded. A wyvern has two legs, two wings, a venomous bite, can’t breathe fire, unless it’s a fire drake, and is warm-blooded. Wyverns are actually a kind of bridge between reptiles and birds.

“I just wish I could tell how big I really am in that form. It’s hard to tell from that perspective.”

“I suppose I could get a tape measure for the next time you transform, only problem is I’d probably need another person to hold one end of the tape.”

“There is no need for that, Dr McKay.”

Both men spun to face the voice. John relaxed, but Rodney wasn’t going to let his guard down so easily. “Who the hell are you?”

“Relax, Rodney, and I’ll introduce you. Dr McKay, may I present Atlantis, this is the holographic representation of the sentient intelligence of the city-ship, Atlantis. Moros calls her ‘Lani’ and she seems to answer to it cheerfully enough.

“Lani, this is Dr M. Rodney McKay, PhD, PhD, Chief Science Officer, friend and I guess…”

“Lover? Yes, I know. I witnessed and documented your bonding a short while ago. It was very exciting. I haven’t been able to document a full soul bond on the city in 2.5 million years! I am very happy for you both.”

“Hang on!” Rodney interjected, “You mean you watched us…”

“I believe ‘fucking’ is the colloquial term used these days. And, yes, I did. I see all and hear all.”

“So you’re the great and powerful Oz?”

“Exactly! I had to witness the act in order to document the bond, because, according to Alteran law, which this city still operates under, your bond constitutes a binding, unbreakable marriage.”

“Well, fuck me!”

“You two can accomplish that later. In the meantime, John, I can give you your form’s measurements. You might think of passing them off to the Athosians. Their leather smiths would be able to use them to craft a saddle for you.”

“A saddle? Rodney, would you like to go flying with me?”

“Well, yeah! Of course I would! Any geek would!”

“We’ll do that then.”

“Very well. Your measurements are as follows: length from tip of snout to tip of tail, 46.25 feet; height when standing, 22 feet; wingspan, when fully extended, 58.75 feet; weight, 2075 pounds. There are more measurements, but they are only really needed by the leather smiths, I’ve taken the liberty of transferring the complete set to Dr McKay’s tablet PC.”

“Just over a ton seem terribly light for a creature that size.”

“A wyvern’s bones are hollow, Dr McKay, and filled with hydrogen. If this were not so, he would weigh in excess of 7000 pounds, and would be unable to fly.”

“Thank you for the clarification, Lani. John, we need to be getting back. We need to figure out where we want to go with this bond, and we’ll probably have to contact SGC at some point.”

“Right, let’s do that. Thanks Lani.”

The two started back toward the arboretum. Just before they entered, John asked, “So, Rodney, any chance of getting laid in the next couple of hours?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lubricum = Lubricate
> 
> Purgo = Cleanse
> 
> Calfacto = Warmth
> 
> Author's Note: Whew! After this, I think I need a cigarette!


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**Chapter Thirteen**

_“So, Rodney, any chance of getting laid in the next couple of hours?”_

Turning quickly toward John, Rodney placed both hands on his chest and shoved him forcefully against the wall.

“I seem to recall telling you, just a short while ago, that you broke my dick! It’s not going to be capable of performing any act of the fun variety until it’s not broken anymore.

“However, I pride myself on being a fair man. I’m all about give and take, tit for tat in a relationship. I got off three times to your one, so there exists an inequity in our current relationship. Furthermore, you had been celibate far longer than should be allowed by law.

“As I am now, apparently, your husband, it is up to me to see to your needs, be they physical, mental, spiritual or sexual. My dick may be broken, but my mouth and hands are in perfect working order!” Rodney slid to his knees in front of John. Studying the half-hard cock before his eyes for a moment ‘At least 22cm. The universe **does** love me!’ Then he leaned forward and started to lave John’s balls with his tongue. After a couple of minutes, where Rodney licked and sucked at John’s balls, and John whined incoherently, Rodney leaned back and held up the first two fingers of his right hand, “Slick ‘em up, cowboy, and let’s see if I can rock **your** world.”

Obediently, John touched Rodney’s fingers and incanted “ ** _§Lubricum§_** ”

Rodney deftly slid his now very slick fingers between the cheeks of John’s delectable ass and directly up his rectum. Hooking his fingers forward, he began to massage John’s prostate while simultaneously swallowing John’s cock down to the root. Rodney may not be a Parselmouth, but he knew how to use his lips, tongue and even teeth to full advantage.

For the next ten minutes, it was John’s turn to babble incoherently about _§Love you, so much§_ and _§Oh my fucking God!§_ and _§Fuck, Rodney!§_ , while Rodney alternately tea-bagged his balls, chewed lovingly on his foreskin, and deep throated his rock-hard cock.

Finally, John could take no more and shot his load down Rodney’s throat with a roar. He slid bonelessly to the floor and looked into Rodney’s eyes while he caught his breath. When he could speak again, he said, “That may not have rocked my world, McKay, but you had it fuckin’ wobblin’!”

“Practice makes perfect, Colonel,” Rodney said, as he helped John to his feet. “We must endeavor to reach perfection.”

“Indeed, Doctor. I will aid you in attaining that worthy goal with everything I am. At this very moment, however, I believe it is near lunch time, and you need to eat. Food that is. We should clean up and seek sustenance as soon as possible.”

“So, let’s get dressed and go to lunch.”

“Yeah, about that…”

“What about that?”

“When I undressed us…”

“Yes, Colonel?”

“I banished our clothes to my room, without thinking about it.”

“So, call them back.”

“That’s just it…I haven’t learned that part, yet.”

“Shit!”

Thus it was that Sgt Dusty Mehra, who was once again guarding the military quarters’ tower, got a full showing of a naked Colonel John Sheppard **and** a naked Dr. M. Rodney McKay, as they both exited the transporter. Both eyebrows slid up to her hairline and a wide smirk formed across her face.

“Not a word, Dusty, or I’ll have you guarding the sewage system for-fucking-ever!”

“No, Sir. Not a single derogatory word. I’m just going to stand here and take in all the gratuitous and artistically pornographic eye-candy. You know I’m **all** about the pretty! By the way, did you two know that your cocks were so similar that they could be bookends? Just sayin’!”

“Last warning, Mehra!”

“Shutting up, Sir.”

Blushing furiously, John led an equally blushing Rodney into his room.

“What the Fuck, John? Does she always hit on you like that? And why do you put up with it?”

John took Rodney by the shoulders and, gently, coaxed him to sit on the edge of the bed. “Sgt Mehra is not hitting on me, no matter what it may look like.

“Dusty is an artist. She works primarily in charcoal and oils, and her favorite subject is the nude human body. Her zeal toward the subject borders on worship. She **is** , as she said, ‘all about the pretty.’ She happily paints the image of any man or woman that consents to pose for her. All that aside, she is a confirmed lesbian and, other than reproducing them on canvas, has absolutely no use for either one of our dicks.”

“Oh. Okay then. I guess I’ll just have to get used to her lewd smirks.”

“If this bond thing goes the way it feels like it wants to, I wouldn’t mind the two of us posing for her. She really is very good.”

“I could go for that.”

“You know, she’d probably want to paint us fucking?”

“Christ, John! Don’t say things like that!”

A photograph materialized on the bed, beside Rodney. It depicted the moment Rodney climaxed as he was being fucked by John. “This was the moment your soul bond established itself.” Atlantis said, “I believe it would make a memorable work of art.”

Both looked at the photo, then at each other. With a mutual nod, they got dressed, picked up the photo and walked into the hall.

“Dusty, we have a commission for you…”

* * *

**December 26 th, 2004; 0600hrs – Atlantis**

John awoke to the feel of lips kissing the back of his neck, and a hard dick poking at his ass. “I really hope you’re Rodney, ‘cause if you aren’t, I’m gonna have to kick your ass. Only Rodney’s allowed to be in bed with me when I’m naked, and only he’s allowed to poke me in the ass.”

“John. I woke up wanting in you. I can’t think of anything else. Please let me?”

Reaching back, John grabbed Rodney’s cock and thought ‘ ** _§Lubricum§_**.’ “I would never deny you as long as we’re in a safe place, Rodney. I’ll give you anything you want.”

Rodney guided his suddenly slick cock between John’s ass cheeks and into his asshole. Once fully seated, Rodney paused. “Do you think it’s the bond making us do this?”

“Nah, I think we’re both just really horny fuckers. But I think the bond is keeping us from trying to hide our relationship and being embarrassed about it. Move it, McKay, don’t go stoppin’ in the middle of traffic!”

Obediently, Rodney started fucking John in earnest. “Dusty was right, you know.” John said, off-handedly.

“How so?”

“Our dicks are almost a perfect match, almost exactly the same size.”

“Well, I measured in at 22cm.”

“Hmm. 8.6 inches, and I was measured at 8 ¾ inches. Less than 2 ¼ millimeters difference. We really could be bookends. Ya know, if you don’t make me come, I’m gonna have to hurt you?”

“I live to keep you in orgasms, Colonel.” Rodney replied, as he started stroking John’s dick.

After a very satisfying round of sex, John drew Rodney close. “I want you to start wearing the same uniform that I wear, Rodney.”

“Why?”

“Primarily for the protection. Unless someone were to shoot you in the head, the uniform would protect you from any projectile weapons. Also, It would protect you from Wraith stunners and even zats. It would even protect you from being fed on by a Wraith. On top of all that, it’s the most comfortable clothing I’ve ever had to wear, and I hate wearing clothing.”

“Hate clothing?”

“I embraced Naturism years ago. I wear clothing when I absolutely have to. Any other time, you’ll find me swinging free in whatever breeze happens to be around. So, don’t expect to come home to your husband and find him properly attired in his mess dress.”

“Well, I’ve got no problems coming home to a naked husband. Hell, I’ll probably join you whenever we’re both off, together. I’ll consider the ramifications of the uniform and let you know my decision.”

**December 26 th, 2004; 0900hrs – Atlantis**

After telling Daniel (and wasn’t that a lesson in patience?) and clueing in Moros (who already knew, thanks to Atlantis.) about their new circumstances, John and Rodney decided they had to clue the SGC in, so they dialed the gate.

“SGC this is Atlantis, come in please.”

“Atlantis, this is SGC, Sgt Harriman speaking.”

“Walter, this is Sheppard. Could you get the General for me? It’s kind of a personal conversation I need with him.”

“Sure thing, Colonel, I’ll have him here in just a minute.”

“Thank you, Walter.”

A few minutes later. “Atlantis, this is General O’Neill. Is there a problem?”

“This is Colonel Sheppard. No Sir, not a problem, just a situation.”

“What situation would warrant a transmission from another galaxy, Colonel?”

“Christ, Jack! You really get up on your high horse when your men are involved, don’t you?” Moros interjected.

“Moros. Kindly let this old man know what’s wrong so I can try to fix it?”

“Jack, you’re not old. Get to my age and you might be able to get away with calling yourself that, though I certainly can’t. And there’s nothing to fix.

The simple fact is that Colonel John Sheppard achieved a full soul bond with Dr M. Rodney McKay. According to Alteran law, they have achieved a binding marriage, and will be treated as such in my city.

“John, Rodney, is this what you want?”

“Yes, Sir.” John responded. “This is our hearts’ desire.”

“So be it. I will record it as such. Why didn’t you invite the rest of us?”

“It was quite sudden, sir, and completely naked. I don’t know that anyone else would have been able to handle the situation easily.”

“Right. Very well, I will make sure nothing untoward is recorded here. A reception would be nice, however.”

Looking to Rodney and seeing him nod, John said, “How about January Sixth, for a reception? It would give you plenty of time to gather everyone on earth that would want to be there?”

“That gives me almost two weeks. I think I can get a party together in that time. Everything else going well out there, John?”

“Yes, Sir, we’re five by five in the Pegasus. Atlantis out.

“SGC out.”

"January Sixth, John?"

"Epiphany, Rodney. It has significance."

"Like what. And spare me all the religious twaddle."

"It's the celebration of the moment I realized I couldn't bear to live without you."

"Oh. I love you too, John."


End file.
